Daddy's Boy
by electric violinist
Summary: Father Figures part 4! Sequel to Like Father, Like Son. Brendan and Ste need to run away. Updated!
1. Chapter 1

**AN: So some of you asked for this. It is the fourth part of my Father Figures stories (see Father Figure, Sins of the Father and Like Father, Like Son). Please read them first!**

**You may want to reread to remind yourself of all the twists and turns anyway. Or to be sure you want to read it!**

**A big thanks to Soggy Teabag for the title. Or blame her if you don't like the title.**

**I hope you enjoy, and as always, I love to know what you think, so please review!**

* * *

Brendan leaned against his car, trying to look casual and inconspicuous. The pick-up should have happened twenty minutes ago, and Brendan was beginning to feel those tell-tale nerves.

This was far too public a place for this sort of thing anyway. However dark it was, there were still people about. Brendan was not very happy about that. People meant witnesses, people talked, people noticed what you didn't want them to notice.

Not that Brendan doubted his own ability to be intimidating. The average person would, when given the choice, rather eat raw sewage than get on the wrong side of Brendan Brady, but you still got some proper nosy bastards who couldn't tell when something was none of their business. Or even what was best for themselves.

Brendan huffed, the summer night only growing cooler as he waited impatiently, the sound of distant roads humming quietly. A small group of women chatted animatedly as they passed him. Two of them looked at him as though they thought he were up to no good. Brendan gave them his best unnerving stare back.

How much longer? He shuffled his feet and tapped on the roof of his car, checking the street.

Twenty five minutes after he arrived, a figure in a hoody finally emerged from a nearby building, glancing up and down the road before stalking in Brendan's direction, head down and hands shoved in pockets. Brendan smirked a little at the sight, but otherwise didn't move. He didn't want to alert his target to his presence too soon.

The figure dragged his feet like a teenager, and seemed in no hurry to get anywhere. As he got closer, Brendan noticed a casual bobbing of the head in time to an unseen music source.

Jesus, an elephant could sneak up on this kid and he wouldn't notice. Was he actually about to walk past Brendan and not even notice?

At the very last moment Brendan stepped straight into the path of the new arrival.

"Eyar, watch where yer…" that familiar whiney voice began, but stopped in moments. "What are you doing here?" it asked instead, far less whiney this time.

"What, I can't surprise my boyfriend by picking him up from work, now?" Brendan retorted smirking.

"Most people would've said, you know. I nearly walked straight past yer," Steven said, grinning.

"Yeah, I noticed," purred Brendan, "but now I have your undivided attention, Steven Hay..." He put both hands on Steven's waist, pulling him forward so their bodies melted together, and as it went on he felt Steven soften under his ministrations, putting his own hands into Brendan's hair and thrusting his own tongue into Brendan's mouth,.

Brendan eventually pulled out of it, not because he wanted to but because he didn't fancy being arrested for public acts of indecency. Even after all this time, Steven could make him almost powerless to resist the desire to commit public acts of indecency. And private acts of indecency. And sometimes very poorly timed acts of indecency indeed. But he couldn't let that happen today; he had a schedule to keep.

"Oh, I do love it when my gorgeous boyfriend surprises me by picking me up from work," Steven grinned at him.

Brendan gave him an extra peck on the lips. "Stop behaving like a soppy girl and get in the car," he said, but the tone was light hearted, and only made Steven grin and steal another proper kiss before getting in on the passenger side.

Brendan tried to hide his own grin as he got in the driver's side. He had an image to maintain, after all.

As Brendan started the engine, he watched Steven out of the corner of his eye. His head was pressed back against the seat, his arms flopped at his sides, like he was completely exhausted, but there was a satisfied grin on his face.

"Oh, I'm dead shattered, me," he grinned, happily, "it was mad busy today, and Pierre keeps giving me more to do, ye know. It think he's starting to really, like, trust me with stuff, ye know?"

"Yeah?" said Brendan, non-commitally. He hated the way Steven used such an admiring voice to talk about his boss (who, as far as Brendan could tell, was just a poofy, posh French bloke who spoke about food far too much like it was sex. He could just imagine the two of them speaking in double entendres and feeding each other all day.)

"Yeah," Steven grinned, not noticing any tension in his lover, and Brendan wondered if he was beginning to get too good at pretending not to be bothered by stuff like that, "and you'll never guess what, Bren."

"What?" Brendan asked, eyes on the road.

"You know, there's a competition in Liverpool, right, for up and coming chefs, under twenty-five? And, Pierre's entering me!"

Of course he was, Brendan thought.

"Can you believe it though? Me? I've only been working there, like, how long?"

"Isn't it?" Brendan said, his voice sounding false and high to his own ears.

"It's amazing, innit?"

"Is that why you were so late?" Brendan asked, trying to keep his scepticism to himself.

"Yeah," Steven said, still grinning, "he wanted to tell me, and then talk about what I'd have to do."

Brendan grunted.

"I'll need to do some proper difficult stuff, you know, and fancy set ups. And then, right, I'll have to create my own meals. And there's these top judges, right from… where are we going?"

Brendan grunted. That was quicker than he expected.

"You just went, like, completely the wrong way." Steven continued.

Brendan cleared his throat, "I thought we'd go and see the boys for a few days."

"What, like, now?"

"Yeah. No time like the present as they say."

"Brendan! I can't just swan off, I've got work and the kids and…" Steven trailed off but not for long. "What are you running away from?"

He was getting canny, this lad now. Maybe he was spending too much time with Brendan.

"Who says we're running away from anything?" Brendan tried.

"Well, normally, when people go on holiday, they do stuff like tell their children and the mothers of their children, and pack and stuff."

"I packed for ye."

"Of course you did."

"And you can text Amy now, yeah?"

"Brendan! Just answer the question. What are you running away from?"

Brendan grumbled. "It's just… just a deal, went sour. We're just popping over the water' til the heat dies down. It's nothing big."

"So police, or…"

"It's not important."

"Brendan! You're asking me to abandon my job and my kids without telling 'em, I deserve to know what's happening."

Brendan sighed. Steven was right of course. Brendan just preferred it when he could keep Steven out of that stuff.

"Alright," he said.

And so it began.


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: thanks for reviews. I'm thrilled there are people out there who still want to read it!**

**I hope you keep enjoying and please review whatever you think! x**

It had been a normal, everyday, kind of a deal. Brendan had been working with these same guys for almost as long as he'd lived in Hollyoaks. There was no reason to suspect today would be different. Steven had gone to work at the normal time and Cheryl was looking after the club, and Brendan was relaxed and confident in his extra-curricular activities. He'd been doing it since he was a kid after all.

He was feeling quite upbeat. He'd spent most of the previous night in a mammoth sex session that could rival any mammoth sex session anyone had ever had.

Brendan sometimes worried that the sex, which still seemed as electric as it always had been, and just as addictive, was, in some ways, just a type of plaster to cover the cracks that had formed in their relationship. The things they didn't talk about that were growing rotten as they ignored them.

Then he realised he had better stop being so bloody soppy. It wasn't really important. They were too strong anyway. Together they could face all the demons of hell. They had done before.

But right now Brendan was waiting. Waiting made Brendan feel shifty and unnerved. Waiting meant things were slowing down. Slowing down was risky; it made you more likely to be noticed, more likely to get caught.

He checked his watch yet again. This was starting to get worrying. It was time to cut and run. Time to get out. This could be a set up or anything, or maybe Dave had got cold feet and pulled out.

That wasn't like Dave though. Unless he was being watched.

His phone buzzed in his pocket. He checked it out.

"2 mins. D"

Two minutes? That was not the way to do business. Anything could happen in two minutes. He could be spotted by the law, he could be intercepted by a rival. This bloke was playing a dangerous game.

He thought about just cutting his losses and going. He still had his cash; he could leave and be no worse off. This amateur could go fuck himself, as far as Brendan was concerned, he wasn't risking his freedom again for anyone. He glanced up and down the street again. He probably should go. But then this guy had been a contact for ages. If he walked off now he would destroy the whole relationship.

A figure turned the corner at the end of the alley. At first Brendan assumed it was Dave, finally here. But the figure didn't keep walking to Brendan. He hovered at the end, loking uncertain. He shifted from foot to foot, ran a hand through his hair, fidgeted with his jacket. He was so blatant, Brendan had decided in seconds that he was no threat. He was just some guy on his mobile, having a tricky conversation. Maybe he'd cheated on his wife. Brendan could see the hands free wires going to his ears. He glanced around himself. Still no one.

Then Dave appeared at a jog behind the guy on the phone. He was looking harassed and Brendan decided the hold-up was probably genuine and not suspicious. He began to walk to meet him. Then he recognised the guy on the phone.

He swore under his breath, but didn't slow his pace or make eye contact with Dave. He had to get out of there.

His fears had been realised. He did know that bloke – he was the bastard who had questioned Steven when he was in hospital. He was a copper. And a shit one at that.

Brendan walked, fast, and when Dave stopped to greet him he barged straight past and to the end of the alley. He nodded to the policeman, what had his name been? He didn't even remember, and prayed Dave would do the same.

More police suddenly appeared around him. He forced himself to stay calm. He was a guy going for a walk, on his way to buy something for his boyfriend. Not a ring. Er… He had to explain all the cash. They would know but they couldn't prove anything – they hadn't seen him pass anything over because he hadn't.

But Dave was in deep shit if he didn't think fast.

"Bren…"

Shit, Dave hadn't taken the hint, and had followed. He must have been off today.

Two policemen pulled Brendan over and searched him. He was clean, and released, but two others had pounced on Dave. Dave who had a large amount of cocaine in a jiffy bag under his coat. The dealer made a run for it, bounding the opposite way from Brendan, but more police had been waiting. When Brendan knew where the leak had been, he would bloody kill them.

If furious Dave didn't get there first.

Held by four men, Dave was struggling like a fiend from Hell. He saw Brendan, not under arrest, being released by the men who had stopped him. He wrested a hand free from his captors and pointed at Brendan.

That was not good. Dave had come to the most obvious conclusion for him. Brendan had to be the leak, because Brendan had avoided it. Shit. Dave pulled his own fingers across his throat. The meaning was obvious. He was going to get revenge.

Brendan was taken in for questioning about the money. He told a tale of a handsome new watch he had seen in a jewellers in town, and how he intended to buy it for his son's sixteenth birthday which was soon. He chatted about Declan for a while, and the coppers bought it.

Dave would not be so easy. He had associates. Associates who were now at risk, and associates who would blame Brendan.

At least until they realised it wasn't Brendan who blabbed. They would eventually. Until then, Brendan needed to get space between him and them. And them and Steven. They probably wouldn't go after his loved ones, but Brendan needed to be sure. He let himself into Steven's flat and packed everything he would need for two weeks. Hopefully they wouldn't need that long.

Belfast was nice this time of year.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: I just keep going at the moment! Can't promise it will last!**

**Thanks for the reviews and for following or favouriting. Keep them coming, they keep me fuelled!**

Ste knew he was scowling. He imagined he looked something like Lucas when they had to go to nursery when he wanted to watch Octonauts, but he couldn't seem to control his face.

Brendan glanced at him sheepishly.

"Just until he figures out who it actually was."

Ste felt his face scowl even more deeply. "So, let me get this straight," he scorned, "you want me to take time off work with no notice, right as my boss is giving me one of the biggest opportunities of my life, because you fucked up a deal."

"Do you see me behind bars, Steven? It was not me who fucked up."

"Oh, yeah, this is better, isn't it, because instead of just waiting a bit for a lawyer to get you out, during which time I could be preparing for a very exciting career opportunity, now we have to run away from some other psycho drug dealer."

Brendan kept driving, but grumbled a bit at Ste's tone.

"And you couldn't have just gone without me?"Ste asked.

"Left you here all by yourself? Unprotected?" Brendan hissed, "I'd rather die."

Ste imagined the opportunities that could have come his way if he'd managed to impress at this competition. Promotion, larger, more impressive places to work. Before he met Brendan he almost never needed protecting. "God, I hate you sometimes," he grumbled.

"But you love me most of the time, right?" Brendan interjected, and it sounded like a genuine moment of fear. Ste caved.

"No, I love you all the time, but bloody hell, Brendan! I'm allowed to be pissed off."

Brendan grunted again, concentrating on driving. "It'll only be a couple of days."

"Yeah," Ste said, resignedly.

"You could tell them that Lucas is sick and you have to look after him."

"Oh, you think 'my boyfriend got a death threat from a fellow drug dealer' won't cut it?"

"Sorry," Brendan replied, which took the wind out of Ste's angry sails a bit. He knew Brendan would never have done this on purpose.

"Alright, but I can't lie about Lucas being sick. I'll have to think of something else."

"Alright," Brendan replied softly.

There was silence in the car for a few moments except for the sound of the engine and other passing vehicles.

"Where are we going?" Ste asked, though knowing the answer.

"I thought we'd just pop over to Belfast. I haven't seen the boys in a while."

Ste felt a claw grip at his heart.

"Oh," he said.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go. Apart from not wanting to go because it was inconvenient at work of course. He didn't not want to see Declan and Paddy. He just kind of dreaded it.

They'd only seen the boys once since the incident they never mentioned, and that had only been for the one day. One day where Ste had managed to completely avoid any conversation with Paddy whatsoever, and hadn't been alone with Brendan's younger son for any time at all. That was manageable for one day. It would be much harder for any longer.

He wasn't sure what he was afraid of really. Maybe it was just rejection. But there was no telling what Paddy would do if he really wanted to end Ste and Brendan's relationship again.

Ste just had to hope it wouldn't get as bad as that ever again.

"It'll be good," Brendan interrupted his reverie, "Padraig just needs to see us together and happy to help him get over … whatever it is."

But Ste knew what it was, and seeing Ste and Brendan together and happy still would probably not help. Paddy knew what Ste had done to help them escape Brendan's father, and though Ste knew it had been the only thing left to do, Paddy, naturally, blamed him for betraying Brendan.

He still wondered if Brendan knew what had happened. They simply never spoke of it, and Ste wasn't ever going to want to bring it up.

"I hope so," Ste replied, genuinely. They were nearing the docks now, and Ste knew there was no way to avoid it. He was going to have to talk to Paddy.

Bloody hell.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Brendan felt a stab of guilt as they drove. He was asking a lot of Steven. He'd have to have a word with that boss of his, make sure he kept the opportunity open. No, Steven wouldn't like that either, would he. He didn't like it when Brendan threatened people. Brendan wondered if it scared him, if Steven still thought Brendan might hurt him.

But it was probably all related to the poison that had been spread through their relationship. Poison spread by Brendan, by what Brendan did to his own father, and by Brendan's inability to protect Steven when it really mattered. Steven knew what Brendan was capable of, and probably wished he didn't.

Brendan sighed heavily. "You eaten?" he asked.

"Yeah, at work," Steven replied.

"Right," Brendan replied, "So we just need somewhere to sleep tonight, then."

Steven tutted. "It's like midnight, and you haven't got us a place to sleep?"

Oh, and that this was the least organised run away ever probably didn't help.

"I've get us somewhere really nice for tomorrow," Brendan protested.

"And we'll sleep in the car now then?"

Oh, Steven still knew how to get on his nerves.

"I'll find somewhere," he growled.

Steven didn't answer. Brendan parked, then watched Steven undo his seat belt. Before the younger man could open the door, Brendan grabbed his hand.

"Hey, you know I would never do anything that could hurt you again, don't ya?"

Steven sighed, "Yeah, I know."

Brendan put a hand on his face, and made the younger man meet his gaze. "I will make it up to you, I promise!"

Steven looked at him, clearly unconvinced.

"I love you, Steven."

Steven nodded, "I know," he replied, and Brendan relaxed. This wasn't an end of their relationship argument. This was just an argument. It could be hard to tell the difference. He leant over in his seat and brought his lips to Steven's. Steven returned the kiss, but pulled away too soon. It was always too soon for Brendan.

"I will make it up to you!" Brendan repeated.

Steven nodded again, then got out of the car. Brendan followed.

One more night before Belfast. One more night before he got to see his kids again.

One more night before he had to face Padraig.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Ste didn't like sleeping in the same bed as Brendan when he was angry with him. For one thing, it always felt wrong to be so near him for so long and not get as close as he could. For another, his sleeping body never seemed to remember that it was supposed to stay away from him, and he always woke up with strong arms around him and his head resting against a firm shoulder. Like that morning, in a dim and cheep hotel near the docks in Liverpool, while wanting to shove Brendan firmly off a small cliff (not big enough to kill him, just to teach him not to do stupid things), Ste woke up firmly planted to the sleeping Irishman's side.

It took a little while to remember that he was angry with Brendan, and a lot of effort to roll out of that warmth and get up. He stumbled into the bathroom and into the shower, then turned it on to its highest level. He enjoyed the flow for a few minutes, letting the warm water sooth him, before he felt gentle hands stroke his back. He groaned.

"Brendan, I'm meant to be angry with you."

Brendan hummed behind him, "You can be angry with me and still enjoy this."

"This?" Ste asked, not sure whether to be playful or irritated yet.

Brendan hummed again, and the strokes became a caress, soapy hands exploring his body in the most sinful and sensual way. As they worked the knots out of his back, Ste felt himself relaxing back against Brendan. The hands reached around him and held him close.

"Am I forgiven?" Brendan whispered.

"Hmm," Ste replied, non-committally.

"You wait 'til you see where we're staying tonight, then you won't be able to resist me."

Ste snorted at that. "Sure of yourself, aren't ya?"

"Always," Brendan hissed in his ear, hands caressing the soft skin of Ste's stomach.

"It's OK to be angry with each other, you know?" said Ste, "it doesn't mean we're breaking up, or that we aren't working or anything."

"I know," Brendan replied, "I just don't like it when you don't like me."

"Well, I don't like it either," Ste responded, "so stop doing stupid things, yeah?"

Brendan kissed his neck gently, "Yeah, I'll work on it."

Ste laughed at that. "I'll believe that when I see it. Better get on though, we've got a ferry to catch."

Brendan sighed, "What, so no shower sex?"

Ste smiled, "Not today anyway."

Brendan's hands reached Ste's bum, "You sure?"

Ste knocked them away, "Ferry, less than an hour. Get on with it," and he got out of the shower. He got dressed quickly, throwing Brendan's clothes at him playfully as he followed him out. He packed up the few things they'd got out, and, while Brendan was still doing up his shirt, pulled open the door.

Accidentally letting two men Ste had never met into their hotel room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Thanks for the continued support! I love reading reviews, so please keep them coming, even if this is a short chapter.**

School was shit!

When would anyone ever need to know the mathematical properties of a circle? Who cared what angle any line was at. When could you possibly need remember what continental drift was?

Though even Paddy had to admit that what happened when you put potassium in water was kind of cool.

But usually it was stupid and boring. Right now it was even more so because Claire McGrath was following him around.

Well, maybe not following him around. He couldn't prove that. He never actually saw her following him. She just managed to be everywhere he was. And some of the other boys were taking the Mickey. Like right now she was walking in front of him on the way to school. Which was stupid, because Padraig knew she lived twenty minutes' walk in other direction.

And now the other kids had started spotting it too. They'd not really stopped teasing him about having a gay Dad, or for the weird mixed up rumours about his Granddad being on the run. Thankfully none of those were on the button – they were all about murder, probably mixed up with the old ones about his Dad, and, for some people, seemed to have given Paddy a bit of a bad boy image. Paddy was in no hurry to correct anyone on that, but he did need to remind people he was no soppy bastard every now and again, or they'd think he was some sort of push over. He did not need the new rumours.

"Paddy and Claire, sitting in a tree…" sing-songed Seamus Byrne as he cycled past, too quick for Paddy to catch him and smack.

"Shut up!" He shouted at the top of his voice, making most of the kids on the street stare and giggle.

One boy hissed, "You've got a girlfriend. How gay is that?!"

And even though Paddy knew what was wrong with that statement, it was still the teasing that he was gay that had been getting to him the most. From idiots mostly, saying that if his Dad was gay he had to be too. If they heard the truth about his Granddad, it would probably never end. But it got to him mostly because he thought it might be true.

He shoved that boy over.

Did wanting Ste make him gay? Did it make him a poof? His Dad wanted Ste and he wasn't a poof, like those guys on the telly who spoke in silly voices. His Dad wasn't camp, or weak, or sissy or girly. Neither was his Granddad.

He shivered at how far from weak or girly his Granddad had been.

And Declan was still no help. He seemed to think the sun shone from their father's arse nowadays. Paddy had started once to say maybe Dad shouldn't be with Ste, and Declan had exploded at him. Called him a 'homophobic arse' and been so angry Paddy hadn't even tried to explain.

Claire McGrath turned around and smiled shyly at him.

Was it really wrong to hit a girl?

Probably. Especially as Claire McGrath hadn't really done anything wrong. Paddy crossed the road instead.

* * *

Ste slammed the door, making Brendan stand up suddenly, shirt undone and with just the one sock on.

"What's wrong?" Brendan asked, worry lacing his voice.

"There's two guys out there."

"Who?"

"I don't know, but they were big!"

Knocking corroborated his story, loud and angry against the door. Brendan took Ste's wrist and pulled the younger man behind him.

"What do you want?" he shouted.

The knocking continued, and Ste wondered if they were actually trying to break the door down.

"I ain't opening it 'til I know who you are!" Brendan called.

"Just a friendly warning, Brady," called a rough voice through the wood.

"Yeah, really friendly, the way you're banging on the door there," Brendan sneered.

"You're a grass, Brady! And grasses get what's coming at them!"

"I've grassed on no one," Brendan responded.

"I'm calling the police," Ste muttered, pulling out his mobile, but Brendan pulled it from his hand.

"That won't help right now, Steven," Brendan muttered back.

"You what? How are we going to get to the ferry though? With them outside the door?"

Just then a squawk came from the next room, "I'm calling the police!"

The knocking stopped.

"We're watching you, Brady!" hissed the rough voice at the door, you best sleep with one eye open, yeah?"

They strained to hear the sound of footsteps retreating, but hear them they did, and both breathed a little more easily.

"How did they find us?" Ste whispered.

"I don't know," Brendan replied.

Still waiting for his heartbeat to slow, Ste stepped round Brendan and started doing up his shirt. Brendan looked surprised.

"You alright?" the Irishman asked quietly.

Ste nodded shakily, hands fiddling with buttons.

"Why are ye…?" Brendan asked.

Ste's hands fell to his sides, "I don't know."

Brendan smirked, "You trying to look after me?"

Ste scrunched up his face, "No."

Brendan's smirk grew. "You are a bit."

"As if!" Ste scorned, turning away sulkily.

Brendan pulled him back, "You know, if you keep sticking that lip out like that, I'm just gonna have to suck on it," he teased, "you can't expect me to keep a hold of myself under such temptation."

Ste held back a snort of laughter, and pulled his lips back into their normal position. "Whatever," he said, and spun on his heels. When he had enough distance between them to regain his concentration he asked "How are we going to get out of here?"

Brendan mulled over the question. "I have ways," he said eventually.

Half an hour later they were speeding to the port in the back of a cab. Brendan had payed one of the hotel workers to wear a fake tash and drive his car around Liverpool for a bit, warning him to stick to the populated and busy bits.

Ste was far from convinced it would work, and by Brendan's nervous fidgeting, he wasn't certain either. But they were running late for the ferry, and couldn't do anything about it now except keep their fingers crossed.

Bloody Brendan Brady.

**Review please! They keep me going!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I love you guys! 9 reviews in 12 hours, you have earned a reward! (This reward was a quick update, just in case you are expecting a sex scene or something.)**

**And I'm trying to get a lot of this out before I disappear for my wee holiday. :S**

**Please keep the reviews coming, and enjoy!**

"Paddy loves Claire, Paddy loves Claire!"

"Do not!" shouted Paddy at the random group of kids that had decided to follow him around the school playground that lunch time.

"Are you queer then, Brady?"

"Eugh, you queer Brady?"

"Feck off!" Paddy shouted at the top of his voice.

"Language Padraig!" admonished a passing teacher.

"Sorry, Miss," Paddy mumbled as the kids around him giggled and spoke to each other in undertones.

"Leave him alone!" a new voice joined the chorus, and Paddy inwardly groaned. Claire McGrath trying to defend him was not going to help right now.

"Ooo, you're wee girlfriend standing up for ya? How gay is that?"

"Piss off!" he hissed, more quietly this time, and tried to casually wonder off. This lot weren't having that though.

"Hey, Claire, hey, you fancy Padraig yeah?"

"Hey, Claire, you fancy a queer!"

Then someone stole her bag. "What's in here?" one jeered.

"I bet she's got PB written all over her diary," called another.

"Give that back!" Claire McGrath cried.

"Aw, you gonna cry now, Claire?"

And Paddy did what all decent Brady men would have done. He punched one of the bastards in the face.

* * *

Brendan hired a car when they got to Belfast. It seemed to take ages, and Ste knew he was not being patient, but then, it was entirely Brendan's fault they were there, and Ste could see no reason to be anything but sulky.

He got a really nice car though, and Ste had some fun playing with the car's internal computer, making it play lots of different radio stations, guide them around the city and tell him the traffic and weather in various parts of the country. Then he turned on the heated seats and climate control. After a while it got on Brendan's nerves enough that he switched it all off. They drove to Eileen's first, where Brendan dropped something off, telling Ste to wait in the car. Then they drove up to an exclusive looking apartment block.

Ste sat in the car, waiting for Brendan to tell him the next bit of the plan. Was there another car hire place around here and they were going to swap? But Brendan was looking at him expectantly.

"What?" Ste asked.

"Well?" Brendan said.

"Well what?" Ste replied, bemused.

"What do you think?" Brendan asked, doing nothing to stop Ste's bemusement.

"Of what?" Ste asked.

"The flats, Steven."

Ste stared at him. "Why you asking me that?"

"I bought a flat. One of them." Brendan pointed at the apartments.

"You what?"

"Come on, I'll show yer."

"You're moving to Belfast?" Ste cried angrily.

"What? No…"

"Well, you're going by yourself, right, 'cause I'm not moving to Belfast! I've got kids, me, I'm not moving all the way over here!"

Brendan rolled his eyes, "I'm not moving to Belfast, Steven," he replied, clearly forcing himself to be calm. Ste stared at him again.

"So…?" he prompted.

"I just thought, if we had a place to stay over here, we could get over more often, bring Leah and Lucas, you know. Make it something special, instead of loads of shoddy hotels…" Brendan trailed off, putting a comforting hand on Ste's neck and stroking it. "And we could have the boys stay with us rather than having to keep going to Eileen's."

"How long have you been planning this?" Ste asked suspiciously.

"Not long," Brendan replied, smirking.

"You should tell me stuff like this, Brendan."

"But there wouldn't be a surprise, then, would there?"

Ste felt his mouth twitch into a smile.

"Most people don't buy houses as surprises, you know."

Brendan smirked again, "It's only a flat, and if there's one thing I'm not, it's 'most people,' Steven."

"Whatever," said Ste, pretending not to be impressed, and got out. "Come on then, let's see this flat of yours."

"Ours," Brendan corrected, and Ste found himself staring at his lover, completely lost for words. Instead of finding something to say, he got out and grabbed his stuff from the boot of the car. Brendan did the same, then led him through a pin-coded entryway, through smart looking corridors and a lift, until they reached the apartment Brendan had bought.

It was light and modern inside. It had already been furnished stylishly, and Ste had sudden images of Brendan, Leah, Lucas and himself playing on the stylish carpet, Dec and Paddy playing video games, him and Brendan shagging on every surface.

"What do you think?" asked Brendan, stepping up close behind him and wrapping arms around his waist.

Ste grinned, "It's well mint, I love it."

Brendan smirked against his neck, "Thought you would," he whispered, and started caressing Ste's neck, making Ste laugh. "What?" asked Brendan.

"You're getting well soppy, you know."

Brendan growled, "Really?"

"Yeah, proper lovey dovey, you," grinned Ste

"Is that so?" Brendan teased, running his hands down Ste's arms.

Ste nodded, grinning, and Brendan's hands reached his wrists.

"We'll have to do something about that, then, hadn't we?" Brendan growled happily.

* * *

"Padraig Brady, you have some explaining to do!" his mother snarled at him.

Padraig scowled at the road in front of them, but didn't answer. He was not going to feel guilty for any of this.

"Starting a fight?" his Ma continued, "And Mrs Gray says that you refused to apologise. I mean, what were you thinking?"

"I was protecting a girl," Paddy cried, surely she'd understand that.

"A girl?" his Ma demanded, "You were fighting over a girl? What, do you fancy her?"

"No!"

"You're too young for a girlfriend!"

"She's not my girlfriend!"

His Ma glanced at him, her face coated in frustration. "Well, maybe you'll be more forthcoming with your father."

"Dad?" Padraig asked, shocked.

"Yes, he arrived this morning, with no warning. There's an envelope in my handbag for you."

"Why's he here?" Padraig groaned, picking up his Ma's handbag

"Oh, you know what your Dad's like," Ma replied, dismissively.

"Is Ste with him?" Paddy asked. His Ma's response was her usual tense expression that happened whenever Ste's name was mentioned. Padraig took it as a yes. "I wanna go home."

"Well, you're going to your Dad's," his Ma said firmly, "it's his turn to deal with stuff like this. Excluded for a whole day! I can't believe it! You can tell him yourself!"

Ma continued like that most of the way to a block of flats Paddy had never seen before. "The number's on that envelope. I think there's a key inside. Off you go. I'll send your brother and some overnight stuff when he finishes for the day, and I'll be calling this evening to make sure you told Brendan the truth," she looked at him, clearly still furious, "Go on. What are you waiting for?"

"What's this?" he asked, looking at the flats and then the envelope hid pulled out of his mother's handbag.

"Your Dad's bought a flat here, so he can keep an eye you. It's all in the envelope apparently," his mother scorned, "don't ask me, he doesn't tell me anything."

Paddy scrunched his face up, "But…"

"Go on," his mother repeated, and Paddy realised he was going to have to face the music. What would his Dad do to him for getting excluded? Would he give him the time to explain it all before he hit the roof? He was protecting a girl, it was what his Dad would do, wasn't it?

He got out of the car and dragged his feet to the door, but found it needed a pin to get in. He turned round, ready to tell his Ma he couldn't get in, but she'd already driven off. He grumbled to himself, about to press the buzzer when a woman going the other way opened the front door. He stepped through, then wondered if it would be better to tell Dad what had happened before he was within striking distance.

No, Dad probably wouldn't actually hit him. He never had before, and Declan had never mentioned anything about it. He might hit the roof, but maybe Paddy had a room here he could be sent to, and then stay there, and not have to see Ste looking at his father with those annoying loving eyes of his.

He checked the envelope again, then the numbers against the wall. His Dad's flat was miles up. He'd have to take the lift.

He approached his father's door cautiously. God, he was in so much trouble now. He knocked quietly, hoping no one was in.

He got his wish. No one came to the door, no one let him in. He dipped his hand into the envelope and brought out a key. Cool, a few hours alone in a nice flat. He wondered if his Dad had Sky.

The door opened easily with the key, and Paddy snuck in, not sure why he was being so quiet. He noticed the bags in the open plan living area he'd just stepped into. They must have come in and gone out again. There was a great view of the city, a nice looking kitchen, and most importantly, the coolest looking TV Paddy had ever seen. He thought it might be wider than he could reach.

He was about to go about switching it on, which might be tricky when there seemed to be four remotes on a low table in the centre of the room, when he heard the noises. They were odd sort of pounding sounds, that came from the next room, like someone was jumping up and down. He crept towards that door. Was there a burglar in his Dad's new flat? But burglars wouldn't jump around like that, would they? He heard a sound like someone gasping.

He had to find out what that noise was now.

He opened that door. He was completely unprepared for what he saw.

Both men's faces and turned to him the second he'd opened the door, and now showed nothing but shock, but Paddy knew what he'd seen. Ste's hands were tied to the bed. Paddy's father was no better than his Grandfather.

Paddy screamed.


	6. Chapter 6

**Enjoy!**

"Jesus Christ!" shouted Brendan, as his youngest son screamed at him.

"Get off him!" the boy screamed, "get off of him you bastard!" and he threw himself at Brendan, trying to drag him off the bed. Brendan let himself be dragged until his feet hit the ground. Then he fumbled around the floor in search of some jeans.

"Didn't your Ma ever teach you how to knock?!" he shouted.

But Padraig was hitting him, again and again. It didn't hurt, Padraig was still barely five foot tall, but he had to grab both the boy's arms to stop it. That hindered his search for clothes, so he let go of one arm, and grabbed his jeans from the floor.

"I'm calling the police!" the boy shouted, now pulling away instead of hitting him.

"What? Why?" Brendan exclaimed, somehow managing to get his trousers up with one hand.

"You! You're just like Granddad!" cried Padraig

"What are you on about?" Brendan yelled, part of him aware he needed to calm down, the other part of him completely pissed off and embarrassed that his son had walked in on him having sex.

"Brendan!" Steven hissed from the bed. He'd curled up into a ball, trying to hide his nakedness from Padraig. Brendan swore under his breath, and jumped back onto the bed to untie Steven's hands, then threw the sheet over him and turned back to Padraig.

Who'd already left the bedroom.

Brendan swore again and ran after him, finding the boy in the living area with a phone pressed to his ear. "Jesus," Brendan exclaimed and wrestled the phone out of the boys hands.

"Get off!" the boy screeched in response.

"Hello?" said a quiet voice on the phone, "Hello? This is the police, what is the nature of your emergency?"

Padraig dived for the phone again, but Brendan held him back, and spoke into the phone, "Hello, I'm sorry, there is no emergency, my son made a mistake."

"No I didn't!" shouted Padraig.

"Just, shut up!" Brendan nearly shouted, barely keeping hold of his temper."

"Can I take your name please sir?" said the calm polite voice on the end of the phone.

"Jesus," he said, glaring at his son, knowing if he held back now they'd think he was really up to something. "it's Brendan Brady."

"And your whereabouts, sir."

Brendan gave them, all the time glaring at his son. The voice told him that a squad car would be checking on them in a few minutes, and Brendan knew he could do nothing to stop that now.

"Thank you," he said angrily and disconnected the phone.

"What's going on?" Steven asked, appearing suddenly from the bedroom, pulling a tee-shirt on.

"Padraig's called the police."

"Why?" Steven asked Paddy, face creased into a frown.

"'Cause he can't do that to ya!" Paddy cried.

"Do what?" asked Brendan, "look, I'm gay, Padraig, you just have to get over it!"

"You bastard!" Padraig shouted again.

But suddenly Steven was laughing. Brendan stared at him – had he gone mad? The lad hid his face behind his hands, as though he was laughing too hard to let them see.

"Paddy! You've got it wrong!"

Both Brady's stared at him, as he rubbed his face and turned away.

"Oh my God!" Steven continued, "I can't believe this!"

He turned back, and Brendan noticed there were some tears in his eyes. "Paddy, it was just a game!"

Padraig stared at him, "You don't have to protect him!" he cried, "he can't hurt you anymore, the police are coming."

"He wasn't hurting me!" Steven turned away from Paddy again, and Brendan noticed the tears were genuine, but he'd also figured out what Padraig was saying.

"You think I…" he started, "Jesus, Padraig, you think I could do that? To anyone?!"

Steven was making a good effort to hide his tears by laughing. Maybe some of the laugh was genuine, too, but this was all a bit close to home for all of them, "Paddy, me and your Dad were messing about. It was nothing like... you know." Steven forced another laugh.

Padraig was frowning at him.

"He wasn't hurting you?" he asked, concern obvious in his voice.

"Course I wasn't!" Brendan exclaimed.

"No, I'm fine!" Steven laughed again, "you're being silly!"

"Why are you laughing at me?" Padraig asked, his anger changing from fury to embarrassment as he spoke, "I wasn't being silly!"

"No, I don't mean that…" Steven was shaking slightly, "look, I didn't mean to laugh, it's just… it's funny! You walked in on your Dad… My God, you're gonna be scarred for life!"

Brendan's body reacted without the use of his head. He could see the lad falling apart, holding himself back for the sake of others. He enveloped him in his arms.

Padraig stared at them holding each other. "I hate you!" he shouted suddenly, and stormed off.

"You can't go, the police are coming," Brendan called after him, still holding Steven who seemed unwilling to move his face away from Brendan's chest.

Paddy glared at him once more, but turned to one of the other doors in the apartment, managing to find the spare bedroom first try. He slammed the door shut behind him, and Brendan looked down at Steven's face.

"You alright?" he asked.

Steven nodded, "Yeah," but he kept a hold for a while longer anyway. Brendan kept hold too, now that he thought Steven was calming down, starting to worry about Padraig again.

"You should go to him," Steven prompted, "God knows what he's thinking, but he's probably well freaked out."

"Yeah," Brendan replied, "Yeah, but are you alright?"

"Yeah, course!" Steven replied, but he didn't seem quite ready to let go of Brendan yet.

"He's just confused," Brendan said, kindly, "he's been through a lot for his age."

Steven let out a small laugh at that, "I know, I was the one that told you that, remember!"

Brendan huffed too, "Yeah, I know," he said, and kissed Steven's hair

"But, what's he even doing here? It's only, like, one o'clock."

"Oh," Brendan replied, checking his watch. "Yeah," he said, getting to the point.

* * *

Paddy sat on his bed with his legs crossed, fuming. His face felt like a flame, and he kept going over what he'd seen.

Was he sure that Ste was telling the truth? Did grown-ups play games like that? Like, pretend? Like little kids did?

But Ste hadn't been scared. He'd laughed about it. He'd laughed at Paddy. The idea made Paddy's blood run cold. And then he'd hugged Paddy's Dad like he was the only one in the world that mattered to him. Paddy hated that man.

There was a quiet knock on the bedroom door. Padraig didn't answer; he didn't want to talk to either of them right now, not while he felt so small and stupid.

"Padraig?" it was his Dad. Great. "Padraig, I'm coming in."

There was nothing Padraig could do to stop him, so he lay on the bed and turned his back to the door.

He heard the door open, his Dad's footsteps, then the sound of the door being softly clicked shut again. He felt his Dad sit gently on the bed behind him.

"I'm sorry you saw what you saw," his Dad started, quietly, "not just right now, but… you know."

Paddy didn't say anything. He wasn't going to let his Dad off the hook that easily.

"You shouldn't have had to see any of it, I mean you're only…"

"I'm not a kid!" Paddy interrupted, furious that his Dad was being patronising now.

"Yeah," his Dad replied, quietly, "yeah, I just mean, you've been through a lot, and I should have looked out for you more."

He felt a hand pat him on the shoulder, as his Dad continued, "we weren't expecting you for like, two hours. I mean, why aren't you at school?"

"Half day," Paddy lied, quickly.

"Oh, right, so are we expecting Declan soon?"

"I dunno," Paddy replied, truthfully; he had no idea where Declan was. Though he was probably still at school.

"So, the police'll be here in a minute. Thanks to you," his father said, a smile in his voice, "and if you don't show your face, they'll think I've done away with ya."

"What like you did with Granddad?"

The words were out of Padraig's mouth before he could stop them. They were met by silence from his father, and he felt his father's hand freeze on his shoulder.

"Padraig," Dad said after a moment's silence, "I would expect you of all people to understand that."

"You did it, though," Padraig hissed.

His Dad stayed silent for a while longer.

"Are you gonna …. Are you gonna tell anyone?" he asked eventually, a twinge of fear in his voice that Padraig found quite satisfying. Padraig didn't answer. He knew it would wind up his father.

There was a buzzing sound, and then Ste's voice called through the door, "Er, Brendan? I think the police are here, but I don't know how to… you know… like, is there an intercom or something?"

Padraig could feel his father's eyes glued to him as the man stood and stepped away from him. He didn't say anything more, and Paddy felt a smug grin grow on his face.

The police were here.

**AN: Please review!**


	7. Chapter 7

Ste watched Brendan emerge from the guest bedroom, his face cloudy, and pick a phone off a hook in the living area. He muttered to whoever had arrived, then pressed a button and asked them to come up.

"Is everything OK?" Ste asked him once Brendan had replaced the phone. "Is Paddy alright?"

"He's fine," Brendan replied with a short sigh, "I just…" he trailed off.

"What?" Ste prompted.

Brendan breathed deeply, "Nothing," he said at length, "nothing to worry about."

They waited the last minute in silence as the police presumably took the lift up to the apartment. Soon a knock at the door came, and Brendan let in two officers in uniform, one man, one woman.

"Mr Brady?" the man asked.

"Yes, come in," he said, and nodded towards the sofa. "Would you like a drink, tea or something?"

"No thank you Mr Brady," replied the woman, coldly, "we're just here to check that everyone's fine after a strange call to the emergency services earlier this afternoon."

"Yeah, that was my son. He got confused."

"Is this your son?" she asked, looking doubtfully at Ste.

"No!" Ste replied, "I'm his boyfriend!"

Her eyebrows quirked.

"No," Brendan said, "Padraig's gone for a sulk in his room. I'll just go get him…"

As Brendan wandered back to the spare room, Ste saw the police officer break into a laugh. Her colleague frowned at her and gave her a nudge, nodding at Ste.

"Sorry, we just get quite a lot of older men trying to pass guys off as their 'sons', you know," she said, making air quotation marks around 'sons'

Ste smiled, not sure what to make of that.

"Can I take your name sir?" asked the man, more coldly than his colleague.

"Steven Hay," he replied. He had a habit of using his full name with coppers.

Paddy appeared in the doorway. He looked at Ste angrily. Maybe he hadn't forgiven Ste for laughing. Ste probably shouldn't have laughed, but it had been the only way to cover up how upset he was by what he realised Paddy was thinking.

"So," Ste started, "Paddy walked in on me and Brendan… you know… and he erm… got confused?"

The woman looked at Paddy. "So you called the police?"

Paddy stared at the floor, "Yeah."

"And what did you think was wrong?" she asked kindly.

Paddy stared harder, "I thought he was hurting Ste."

"Ste?"

"Steven," Brendan prompted.

"I thought he was hurting _Steven,_" Paddy corrected, stretching the name mockingly.

"But you were mistaken?" the police prompted.

Paddy looked at Ste suspiciously. "You'll have to ask him."

"Of course! I'm fine!" Ste insisted for what felt like far too many times in half an hour.

"And are you sure that was all, Padraig?" the lady asked.

And Paddy stared at Brendan, his expression unreadable. Ste frowned, trying to guess what on Earth was going through the boy's head now.

"Of course that's all," he found himself saying, "isn't it? Paddy?"

Paddy's gaze turned slowly and sadly to him. He put his head on one side. Brendan suddenly took a huge breath in, and a shaky one out, and Ste began to panic.

"Padraig, will you answer the police officer, please?" Brendan said, voice harsh. Ste stared into Paddy's eyes, trying desperately to read what was going on in them.

The male police officer looked at Brendan for a moment, then at Paddy, "Would you like us to go somewhere else to talk, son?" he asked.

Ste could barely believe how far this was escalating. What was Paddy thinking? Was he going to mention Brendan's father? He glanced at Brendan worriedly, but his eyes were glued to his younger son.

But Padraig was still staring at him. Was he waiting for Ste? What more could he want?

"Paddy, I promise you, your Dad has never …." Oh, he had to phrase this carefully, "he's never done anything like that to me, and he never would, but now the police think we've threatened you or something!"

There was a moment's more silence, then Brendan breathed loudly again and said, "I better call your Ma."

"No," Paddy said suddenly, "no, it's fine, I just wanted to make sure Ste wasn't trying to protect him or something."

There was a collective sigh in the room, as each adult felt a huge relief. The woman police officer was the first to recover.

"Well, thank you for your time. We'll need to make a report, but we shouldn't have to bother you too much again," she looked at Padraig carefully, "remember Padraig, 999 is for emergencies, alright?"

Paddy nodded. He'd gone back to staring at the floor.

"Thank you," Ste said, ready to usher the police out of the flat.

"Good afternoon, Sir," the male policeman said, while the woman was scribbling on a piece of paper.

"This is the direct line to our station," she said, handing the piece of paper to Ste and staring into his eyes, "if you ever need … support."

Ste flushed red, not sure he understood what she was saying, but he took the number, and found himself almost trying to herd them out of the door like sheep. The moment they were through, he shut the door.

"What was that about?" he asked the room in general.

Neither Brady answered. They looked at each other for a while, as if daring the other to speak, then looked at the floor.

That really annoyed Ste, "Right, well, you play your little silence games," he sassed, "I'm making some lunch, and see if either of you get any!"

And he stormed over to the kitchen area in search of anything that he could cook.

* * *

Brendan glared at his son. Steven huffed off that he wasn't being let in on the secret, but Brendan was not going to worry him with this.

He grabbed his younger son's arm, and pulled him back into the guest bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

"Ow!" the brat moaned, but Brendan knew he hadn't hurt him, he was just being a sulky brat.

"What is your problem?" he demanded in an angry hiss.

Paddy crossed his arms and glared at him, but didn't reply.

"What, you're after attention, what?" He was at a loss, and struggling to keep hold of his temper.

Paddy didn't move. The brat was trying his patience.

"Do you know what would happen if you told those coppers what happened to your Granddad? You think it would just split up me and Steven? You think me and your Ma would get back together or something? You couldn't be more wrong Padraig! I would go to prison, Padraig, and I might never come out the other end. Is that what you want? You want me locked away, so I never see you or Declan ever again? Is that what you want, your Dad behind bars? Is it?!"

His voice was rising. He wasn't keep control of his temper.

Padraig's face had fallen a bit, but he was still silent and moody.

"You got me and Steven back together! I mean what is going on in your head now?!"

"Brendan!" Steven was suddenly at the door, "Bren, this isn't helping, right? Give him some space."

Padraig's gaze suddenly jumped to Steven, concern all over it, and something else too. Admiration maybe? God, Brendan wished he could tell what he was thinking.

"Alright," he said, "come and have some lunch, Padraig, we need to chat."

"Er, about that," Steven interjected, "we've got like, nothing in the cupboards."

"Right," Brendan replied, "You wanna order some pizza, Paddy?"

The boy sat back on the bed, arms still crossed, expression back stormy.

"Whatever," he mumbled.

Brendan felt exasperated. "Yeah," he said, and followed Steven back out of the room.

* * *

Declan's Ma had smiled at him when he got home, told him to pack a bag and given him another full of his brother's stuff. "Where am I going?" he had asked.

"Your father wants you to stay with him for a few days," his Ma had replied, cryptically, "so I'm having the girls over and may be able to enjoy a tidy house for a while."

She seemed quite happy with the arrangement, and had driven him over to a really expensive looking block of flats. He'd kissed her goodbye (only slightly grudgingly, he wasn't a kid, after all) and taken the two bags to the flat number on the envelope he'd been given.

The door was opened by his father with a huge grin and a bear hug.

"Hey, you, Jesus, you're as tall as me!" his dad greeted, "how have you been, eh?"

"Let me get in the door, ey," Declan teased, and his father took both bags and indicated for him to follow.

"Declan!" greeted Ste with a smile, "alright?" He was sat on a sofa with his feet up, looking up from the telly as Declan came in.

"Yeah, thanks Ste," he replied, "Nice place."

Ste rolled his eyes, "Yeah, your Dad chose it."

"So it's like yours then?" he asked his father, who had just dumped both bags in a corner and jumped down on the sofa next to Ste.

"Yep, all mine, so you two can stay with us whenever we visit, get you out from under your Ma's feet, yeah?"

"Cool," Dec replied, 'cause it was brilliant, but he wasn't going to let his Dad know he thought that, "how many bedrooms?"

"Three, so you'll have a room each, except when Leah and Lucas come too," his father grinned.

"Cool," Dec repeated, letting himself fall into a sofa himself. "Where's Padraig?"

"Hiding," Ste replied, turning his attention back to the telly.

"What, did you tell him off? I bet you were furious!"

"Furious?" Ste asked, "how did you know?"

"Mam said," Declan replied. Obviously, how else would he know?

"Your Mum?!" Ste cried, turning red and wide eyed.

"Yeah," Declan replied, bemused.

"Your Mum knows about…" Ste started, but Dad interrupted him.

"What did your Ma tell you Declan?"

Ste stopped mid flow, then shut his mouth so quickly his lips made a popping sound.

"Er, about Padraig…" obviously, he thought.

"What about Padraig?" his Dad asked, suspiciously.

"He was suspended today."

His Dad's mouth dropped.

"You what?" Ste cried.

"What… what for?" his Dad asked, clearly trying to control his temper.

"Didn't he say?" Declan asked, worriedly.

"No, he did not," replied his father, pulling out each word.

"What did he do, though?" Ste asked, wide eyed.

"Started a fight I think," Dec answered, "but I don't really…"

"The little liar!" his father interrupted, getting up angrily.

"Brendan!" Ste called after him, "don't you dare speak to him until you've calmed down!"

Dad looked ready to explode, "He lied to my face, Steven!"

Ste got up, obviously trying to calm him down, "Well, he other things on his mind, didn't he?"

Dad laughed a humourless laugh.

"Just, calm down, yeah?" Ste continued, reasonably, "you won't get anywhere if you go in shouting."

Dad ran a hand through his hair, clearly wanting to hit something, but instead just snarled "Yeah."

Ste watched him worriedly for a few moments, before turning cautiously to Declan. "What do you want for tea tonight?" he asked, "there's nothing in the cupboard so we already ordered takeaway for lunch, so it's your choice for tea."

"Yeah," his Dad said, calming down, "just not pizza, yeah?"

"Why don't you think about it? It's still a bit early, isn't it?" Ste said kindly, "That's your room there," he continued, pointing at a door, "Why don't you go unpack, and we can order when you come back out again?"

Ste watched Declan accept the opportunity. He clearly wanted him out of the way so he could talk to Dad. Declan grabbed his stuff and wondered into his new room. He didn't bother looking around – what Ste was about to say to his Dad was bound to be more interesting.

"You need to calm down!" Ste hissed the moment the door shut

"I am calm!" Dad replied, sounding anything but,

"This is me you're talking to. I know what you're like!"

"Steven…"

"I will not let you go in there and talk to him like this. If you lose your temper with him…"

"I'll never hurt my kids Steven…"

"Yeah, like you'd never hurt me?"

There was a moments shocked silence, broken by Dad, "Are you trying to wind me up?!"

"Exactly!" Ste cried, "you think this is winding you up? Can you imagine how he's gonna answer anything? If you hit him…"

"I'd never…"

"Stop saying that! It's an empty promise. Think how many times you gave it to me!"

Declan covered his mouth with his hand. He could hear his father's laboured breathing outside. Ste wasn't finished though, "If I let you go in there like that, you will regret it forever._ W_hen you're like you've just been, you scare the shit out of me!"

Dad's breathing stayed agitated, and Declan opened the door just enough to see a slither of what was happening.

"Let me try to find out why he was suspended," Ste continued, "and then you can calmly think about what needs to be done, alright?"

He saw his father nod jerkily, and then Ste close the gap between them. He put a hand on Dad's face. "I'm so proud of you, you know?"

"What for?" Dad asked, sadness lacing his voice.

"For working so hard," Ste replied, and put his head on Dad's shoulder. He pulled Dad's arms around his waist and put his own around Dad's neck. They stayed like that for some time, and Declan pulled away from the crack.

Ideas were forming in his head – little snippets of information were being joined together – the beating he saw in the office at Dad's club – he'd thought it was a one off, something to do with him being there, but then Amy had assumed Dad had hit Ste that time, hadn't she? Why would she assume that so quickly? Was his Dad abusive?

He remembered asking his Dad, that time after he'd watched him knock Ste down with one punch, whether he hit his Mam. Dad's answer had been so assured, so definite a no that Declan had put the idea out of his head. His Dad may lose his temper sometimes, but he wasn't violent, not really. But maybe it was wrong of Declan to assume that.

If Dad hit Ste, like often, then why would Ste give him the time of day? Surely someone like Ste, who had had no problem giving Dad a talking to when he needed it, wouldn't just let that happen? Declan had some finding out to do.

Footsteps neared the door, "You alright in there Deccy?" his dad called through.

"Yeah," he replied, "I'm fine." He didn't know whether his father picked up on the edge to his voice, or Declan's willing for him not to enter the room.

**AN: Please review, even if you're thinking 'meh'. It's just nice to know people are reading!**


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Thanks to anyone who has reviewed. Please keep them coming!**

Ste knocked quietly on Paddy's door.

"Can I come in?" he asked, as politely as he could, feeling nervous. Brendan glanced at him from where he planted himself on the sofa, trying to immerse himself into a TV show.

Paddy grunted on the other side of the door, and Ste decided to take it as a yes. He carefully stepped into the room. Paddy lying on the bed, arms folded, facing away from the door. It was quite a dull room at the moment, soulless. Maybe that was a way in.

"You alright?" he asked, trying not to sound upset or worked up.

Paddy grumbled again in response, not looking at him.

"So, what do you think of your room then?" he tried.

"S'alright," Paddy grumbled, dismissively.

"Well, maybe," he chimed, "maybe, we can talk to your Dad about decorating it."

Paddy's reaction was minimal, but Ste could see a softening of his tension, a hint that he was letting Ste in, just a tiny bit.

"What colour do you think you'd want?" he asked, cheerfully.

There was a pause. Paddy was thinking. Ste tried to hide his smile at the small victory.

"Dunno," Paddy said at length, but it didn't matter. He was listening.

"Well, no rush, is there? You have a think about it." Ste smiled, sitting on the bed casually.

Paddy hummed agreement, so Ste got ready for the next conversation.

"So, your brother arrived," he opened, as casually as he could.

The tension returned to Paddy's body, but Ste continued.

"Is there something you want to tell us?"

Paddy grumbled.

"Paddy…" Ste began.

"Declan's a big fat grass!" Paddy suddenly cried.

Ste almost laughed, it was a bit of a relief to be dealing with such a normal sort of teenaged argument instead of the type they usually managed to have.

"In fairness, he thought we already knew."

Paddy grumbed again, "He's still a grass."

"Paddy, did you think we'd never find out? That your Mum wouldn't have said? Or that when we tried to drop you at school tomorrow you'd have got away with it," Ste had a mental image of Paddy waiting just on the steps of the school all day.

"I do have to go in to school tomorrow," Paddy moaned, "it's an internal exclusion."

"Right, but… Oh, that's not the point," Ste said, getting exasperated. He had been right to do this instead of Brendan. "What happened?"

"What?" Paddy grumbled, and Ste suspected he was trying to delay the inevitable.

"Why were you excluded?" he asked, patiently.

"Why do you care?" Paddy grumbled, angrily, and Ste felt a slight sting at the words.

"Paddy, I care about you," he assured "you know I care about you."

Paddy's head turned a bit, like he was checking it out. Did he believe Ste? Well, after everything that had happened, he should do. Then he turned properly and sat next to Ste on the bed, with just a little gap between them.

"There were these boys, and they were, like, picking on me." Paddy started.

"So, you fought back?" Ste asked, imagining and understanding. Short tempers were something he knew a lot about.

"No. They kept saying I fancied this girl."

"Aw," Ste said, unable to help himself, imagining Paddy and some girl the same age sneakily holding hands behind the bike sheds, and finding it unbelievably sweet.

"I don't!" Paddy protested, and Ste bit his lip to stop himself making any other comments that would stop Paddy continuing.

"But then," Paddy continued, "they started picking on her. They nicked her bag and stuff. So I punched him."

"Him?" Ste prompted, still finding Paddy's first crush adorable.

"Luke Byrne," Paddy said, "he had her bag. But then the whole gang got involved, then they all blamed me when the teacher broke us up."

"But you started the fight?" Ste asked.

"I told ye…"

"Yeah, but you made it physical?"

"I was protecting a girl!" Paddy said angrily.

"So, they were hurting her?"

"No, they were just picking on her…"

"Paddy," Ste interrupted. "Can you understand what you did wrong?"

Paddy scowled at him, but Ste carried on.

"It's never OK to hit anyone."

Paddy stared at him. "But you're still with Dad!"

Ste was taken aback, "What?"

"I'd say murder was worse than a smack any day!"

"But…" Ste tried, but Paddy was on a roll.

"Does Dad 'understand what he did wrong?'" Paddy sneered.

"Of course he does…"

"But he still did it, and he's not in prison, and you still fuck him."

"Paddy, you don't understand…"

"I understand more than you think!" Paddy hissed, "you can't see what he's like, you shouldn't be with him!"

And Ste felt panic again. Last time Paddy had wanted rid of Ste; he'd nearly destroyed his life.

"I love him," Ste replied, desperately.

"You shouldn't!" Paddy cried.

Ste stared at him, feeling his heart beat fast and tears sting his eyes. He needed out, and, working as hard as he could not to cry or run in front of Padraig, escaped that bedroom, shutting the door behind him.

But he still couldn't let himself go, because there was Brendan, looking at him, waiting to know what had happened.

"Er…" he said, "he started a fight with some boys because they were picking on a girl."

Brendan took that in and nodded. "So, not all bad then?" he said.

"No," Ste replied, "Er, I've got to go to the bathroom, me."

"Sure," Brendan replied, "and when you're out we can order dinner?"

Ste smiled, "Do you ever stop thinking about food? It's like a miracle you ain't the size of a house."

Brendan grinned at him, "You manage to take my mind off it sometimes," he smirked, "and work off a lot of it too."

Ste smiled back, then dashed to the bathroom. He needed time to hide.

* * *

Brendan had to keep pushing Declan to come out of his room and order food with him, which was odd. Declan usually had time for him. They ordered some Indian food, and eventually got both boys out of their rooms and Steven out of the bathroom. It wasn't hard to tell that Steven was upset, and he took the distraction of the telly to pull his boyfriend away and ask him what had happened.

"I told you," was Steven's first reply, clearly avoiding the real question, "some boys were picking on a girl so Paddy started a fight."

"And that's why you've been hiding in the bathroom? As if you never got into fights at school."

"It's nothing," Steven insisted, "everything's fine."

"Have you ever managed to convince someone you're fine when you're not Steven?"

"I am fine," Steven repeated.

Brendan raised an eyebrow.

"Look I better get …"

Brendan interrupted his excuse. He wasn't going to let him get away that easily.

"Steven, what did Padraig say that upset you?"

He could see Steven cave just a little, "Paddy … he wants us to …"

"What?" he prompted, looking deep into the eyes of his lover.

"He wants us to break up."

"What?" he hissed, annoyance and confusion pushing him in equal messure.

"He told me we shouldn't be together," Steven mumbled at the floor

"Yeah, I heard you Steven… I just…"

"Do you want me to go?" Steven asked, eyes wide and worried.

"What?"

"Do you want me to leave? I'll find an hotel or something for tonight, then go home."

Where did that come from? "No!" Brendan cried.

"But…"

"Steven, we are not breaking up because a kid's having a strop."

"But…"

"No, Steven, I love you, he will get used to it. Come on, he got us back together, he can't go around changing his mind."

Steven looked ready to cave further.

"And it's not even you he's angry with."

And then Steven looked hopeful, so Brendan continued, "He doesn't know how to deal with what happened with my Dad." He realised how easily Steven could misunderstand that, "How _I_ dealt with my Dad," he clarified carefully.

"Right…" Steven answered, as though that made sense.

"It's his problem Steven, he needs to move on, and we have to help him," he put his mouth close to Steven's ear, seductively, "by showing him we are strong and in love."

Steven frowned, "I'm not sure…"

But Brendan interrupted him with a passionate kiss, and he felt Steven's will power cave under its strength, as it so commonly did when faced with a kiss from Brendan. When he eventually pulled away, Steven's breathing was heavy and his eyes were half lidded.

"How am I going to cope through all of dinner after that?" Steven laughed.

The door buzzed and the food arrived. He sent Declan to get it so he could mess with Steven a little more before dinner. A bit of flirting, the brushing of hands as they lay the table, pulling him in for another snog when they got close enough, Steven laughing and shoving him off.

Declan arrived with the food, and gave them a funny look as they pulled away from each other. What was all that about? But Paddy gave them a glare that would rival any of Brendan's.

He dished out some food, letting the boys dish their own, and then tucked in. He watched Padraig shuffle his food around the plate, "Hey, we need to talk about this suspension…"

"Later," Steven interrupted. "We can talk about it later," and looked meaningfully at Brendan and then at Declan, who was looking curious but embarrassed.

Brendan took the hint, "Yeah," he said, "Later, but you're not getting out of this Padriag. It's not an acceptable way to behave."

"Yeah, cause you've never hit anyone…" the younger boy mumbled. Declan dropped his fork, but Brendan rolled his eyes.

"Do as I say, not as I do," he said.

"I think you're Dad means, he knows he's made mistakes, because everybody does, right? But we have to face up to them in the end."

Padraig snorted.

"And he would do anything to protect the people he loves," Steven said quickly.

"Yeah," Brendan agreed, taking Steven's hand. "I would do anything for any of you three."

Paddy glared at the joint hands. "So… you always stand up and take responsibility for what you've done do you?"

Oh, this boy was skating on thin ice.

"Padraig, we've had this conversation."

"And what about Ste?" Padraig crowed, staring at the man in question, "does everyone know everything you've done?"

Steven stared at Padraig, "Paddy…" he started.

"How about Declan, does he know how low you'd stoop?"

"Paddy, please…" Steven tried.

"How about Dad? Does he know everything that I know?"

"Stop!" Steven whispered.

"If you carry on talking, Padraig, you better be prepared for the consequences!" Brendan warned.

"What's going on?" Declan asked, clearly lost.

Padraig laughed. Brendan felt like hitting him, but Padraig turned his gaze straight at him, as if challenging him to stop him, and Brendan realised he couldn't. He had never felt so impotent, and Paddy had recognised it. He grinned triumphantly.

"Ste slept with Granddad!" he sang.

And a red mist clouded everything Brendan could see.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Sorry it's taken so long - been away on hols, got loads to do this week to catch up, but to you wonderful faithful people who have been reading and reviewing, here is a new chapter! Yay!**

Paddy may as well have smacked Ste in the face.

Brendan was the first to react to the announcement. He threw himself up, terrifying Ste to the core, and making both boys jump a mile, but he didn't make a move towards Ste. He grabbed his youngest son by the arm and almost lifted him from his chair.

"Brendan!" Ste cried. He didn't know why Brendan was attacking his son rather than Ste, but he couldn't let it happen. He jumped up to stop him, and saw Declan had done the same thing.

Brendan tugged the boy, now fighting him every step of the way, away from the table.

"Let go of him!" Ste shouted, real fear running through his whole being, but Brendan ignored him. At the door of Paddy's bedroom, he threw the boy inside, and slammed the door, trapping the boy inside, with the thin wood protecting him from Brendan's fury. Brendan breathed heavily, holding the door closed as Paddy banged against it and tried to tug it open again.

"If you leave this room before I tell you to, you will regret, do you understand me?" Brendan called through the wood. The noises became more hesitant, but didn't completely cease. "Do you understand?!" Brendan shouted, barely controlling himself.

The struggles on the other side stopped, and Brendan let go of the door, staring at it for a few moments longer. Then he turned his gaze on Ste.

"Steven…" Brendan started, stepping towards him.

And suddenly Declan was in between them.

"Dad!" he cried, "stop!"

Brendan looked as surprised as Ste felt.

"Declan, what...?"

And Declan was shaking, standing between Ste and Brendan, silently, but Ste didn't have time to worry what he was thinking. He turned and sprinted to the bedroom. He heard two sets of footsteps following, but was too busy grabbing clothes and shoving them back into the bag Brendan had brought for him to care.

"Steven, what are you doing?" Brendan growled from the door way.

"Packing," Ste sobbed, which was the obvious reply.

"Dad, leave him alone!" Declan cried, and Ste thought he saw real tears in his eyes.

"What?" Brendan said to his son in confusion, but didn't wait for an answer before he said, "Steven, you're not going anywhere."

"You can't stop him!" Declan cried, "just let him go!"

"No!" Brendan said, voice pleading, "I mean, Steven, you don't have to go."

"Yeah, I do," Ste replied; obviously he had to go.

"I already knew!"

Ste stopped.

"Of course I knew!" Brendan continued, "he … Declan, will you give us a moment?"

The boy looked worried, hesitant, "I don't think I should," he mumbled.

"Look, we'll explain later, but I need to talk to Steven alone," Brendan said, keeping an admirable lid on his temper.

"But…" Declan protested.

"Go!" Brendan shouted, and with one more terrified look at Ste, Declan obeyed.

Ste stood still, bag in hand, watching him go.

"Steven…" Brendan started.

"I didn't want to…" Ste started, desperate for Brendan to understand, even if it was the end.

"I know…"

"It was in that cottage…"

"I know Steven," Brendan got closer and closer, and Ste shrank back, expecting a beating. "It's OK, Steven, I'm not going to hurt you."

Ste stopped, feeling the tears in his eyes rolling down his face.

"I did it so Paddy could escape."

Brendan nodded, tears in his own eyes.

"I saw him out the window, and I thought you'd never find us, he was the only way," the tears were rolling, almost stopping him talking, but he needed Brendan to understand before it all ended. "But I had to stop him seeing, I had to! If he saw Paddy escaping… I just… I kissed him, and let him… but I'd fought him off every other time, and before I saw Paddy I fought him."

And Brendan stepped closer again, so close that Ste stumbled backwards, dropping his bag, but Brendan had caught him already. Ste closed his eyes, still expecting a blow.

Brendan wrapped him up with his big arms, and held him close to his chest. Ste cried like he never had before, as Brendan held him close.

"I'm sorry," he sobbed eventually.

"Shh," was Brendan's only response.

"I am, I'm sorry."

"You've got nothing to be sorry for," Brendan said, briskly.

"I'm sorry," Ste repeated, still lost in his own world of misery.

"Steven, it's not you who should be sorry, it's me! I failed you, I let it happen."

Ste screwed up his face, though hope was sparking in his heart, "No you didn't, you came, you stopped him."

"I should have protected you. I should have been there for both of ye."

Brendan's voice held such misery. Had he been thinking this way since it happened?

"No!" Ste cried, "you couldn't have stopped it! None of it was your fault."

"Steven, I had a chance to stop him."

What? Ste looked up.

"I tracked him down. Before Padraig got us back together. I should have stopped him."

What was he saying? "I'm not gonna blame you for trying not to kill him," Ste whispered.

Brendan's grip on him tightened, but it wasn't enough. Brendan finding out hadn't been the only reason he was leaving.

He pulled away from the beautiful strong arms with huge regret, and picked up his bag.

"What are you doing?" Brendan asked, surprised.

Ste wiped his face, "When we got back together, when Paddy got us back together," he sobbed, getting out of the bedroom, and starting across the living area, "I really hoped we could work. But he doesn't want us together. He wants to get me away from you, away from his family, and I can't… Brendan, remember what he did before to break us up. I can't go through that again." He walked from the room.

"Steven," Brendan called, "Steven you can't leave!"

"It's all right, I'll just get a taxi to a hotel, and then you can text me when it's safe to go home."

"Steven, stop!"

"Ste!" cried a new voice. Paddy's. Ste stopped to listen, but couldn't bear to look at him.

"Hey! I told you to stay in that room!" Brendan growled angrily.

"But Ste can't go!" Paddy cried. "I'm sorry!"

The boy was in tears.

"Go back to your room!" Brendan nearly shouted, "I'm so angry with you right now…"

"Please don't go Ste!" the boy cried, ignoring his father.

"Then what do you want, Paddy?" Ste shouted back.

But the boy just stared, tears falling down his face. Then he shook his head, and ran back into his room, slamming the door shut behind him. Ste stared after him.

"But…" Ste said to the closed door.

Brendan took his bag from him. "You're not going anywhere tonight Steven," he said, and Ste let himself be led back to their room. Brendan closed the door behind them, and lay them both down on the bed, fully clothed, where they both just looked at each other, silently.

* * *

Paddy sobbed against the door, desperate to make sure no one follow him, but furious that no one tried.

What had he been thinking? Maybe it was revenge for the laughing, but mostly it was just to split them up. Maybe he couldn't stop Ste looking at that murderer like he was perfect, like he was some sort of hero, but he thought if his Dad rejected Ste, if Dad ended it, they'd still not be together. That would be enough.

And then what? Ste would suddenly realise it was Padraig he really cared about?

There was a chance.

But then suddenly Ste was leaving. If Ste left, how would Paddy ever get him back? How could he find him again? Hearing him leave had made Paddy panic, he hadn't even known what he was saying when he begged him to stay.

It had been a stupid idea. Now Ste and his Dad weren't even lying to each other.

What Paddy needed was Ste all to himself. It wasn't Ste he needed rid of. He needed Ste by his side, Ste with him. Ste had to stay.

It was his Dad that needed to go.

**AN: Please let me know what you think! **


	10. Chapter 10

**Ok, so just read the Digital Spy interview with Emma Smithwick, and I need to wrap this series up before Later or so it seems, or my entire premise will die. I shall do my best!**

**I couldn't decide what order to put these next two chapters, so probably uploading after 1.30 am is not the best idea, but I promised someone yesterday, so here it is anyway.**

**Enjoy**

Walking to school slowly the next morning, Declan played the incidents of the previous night over and over again in his head. There was simply too much to take in. His head was in a miserable state, trying to get round it all.

Firstly, his Dad was abusive. Not to Declan, no, but it was still a true label. Declan had believed he would always love his father, but this… this was big and ugly and nasty. Beating up his partner? The man he claimed to love? How many times had he done it? Were they all deserved? Could it ever be deserved? Why did Ste forgive him? How could he stay with him? Did he really still love a man that could do that to him? Had it been wrong for Declan and Padraig to get them back together? Would Ste have had a lucky escape if they'd never got involved?

Then there was Granddad. He'd had an inkling of the nature of Granddad's feelings about Ste long ago, though he'd never tried to confirm it by asking anyone. But then, seeing what Cheryl had seen so long ago in that room of the Bed and Breakfast had sickened him to the core. He'd believed fully in the innocence of Ste for so long, but then he'd also thought the same of his Dad, and now he knew for certain that was wrong. He knew he'd seen rape in that room, but when Ste and Padraig had been abducted, they'd come back with a huge air of impenetrable mystery. Declan had been given no answers, he was simply told that Padraig and Ste were safe, and that that was the end of it.

Amongst all those thoughts was another strange one he couldn't quite place. Peter Cubitt had snuck a book into school a few weeks ago, and kept reading snippets when they thought no one was listening, in between snickered laughter. All about people who enjoyed it when people hurt them. He thought he'd seen the book in his Mam's bag too. Shades of Gray or something. It was confusing him, making him second guess himself, what he'd seen, what he'd heard.

He'd left early for school that morning, unwilling to see or talk to anybody in that apartment if he could help it. He knew the way, but he'd rarely walked these streets before. Another time he might have felt nervous, but his head was already too full to worry about kids from other schools starting on him.

But what plagued him the most right now, as he passed a handful of shops on this unfamiliar route to school, was the way he'd stepped aside. Knowing what he did about his Dad, hearing Paddy's words, knowing how his Dad might take it, it had still taken barely a look to make him flee, like a coward, leaving Ste to his fate. And allowing his father the chance to partake in his dangerous habit.

Declan tried to console himself – you had to be a piece of work to sleep with your boyfriend's father; Ste had deserved whatever had come his way.

But annoyingly Declan found he couldn't believe that.

He felt himself breathe a little easier as he rounded the corner to school. Maybe getting ready for his exams would distract him for the day at least.

His mate Adam was stood outside, waiting for him as usual at the gates. He was leaning casually against a post, checking out some girls passing him. It was still early so there were very few kids around, just some teachers hurrying across the car park within. A couple of blokes were just approaching Adam, who didn't look bothered. Declan saw them talk to him, and he nodded in response, then searched the street again. When he spotted Declan, he looked pleased and pointed at him.

Were those men looking for Declan? They turned to him, and Declan froze in his tracks, just ten metres from them. Why would they want to find him? He searched his memories, maybe he knew them? But he couldn't place them. And of course, if he did know them, they wouldn't need anyone to tell them who he was.

They started towards him and Declan stepped back. He swore quietly; this was not good. What did these people want?

"Declan Brady?" said one of the men, and Declan's heart started pounding. These guys looked like they knew what they were doing, and that did not bode well for Declan. He had a moment of indecision. Should he go forward, to the school? They couldn't hurt him in front of all those people, surely? He would be safe at the school. But that would mean getting closer to them, getting past them, somehow, and God knew what they'd do. So should he run away? Away from the school, away from safety?

But the look on their faces, that cold determined expression, their size, made the choice for Declan. His body reacted on its own – get away, run, get as much distance between you and them as you can.

He didn't get far, just round the corner, out of the view of the school buildings, and he knew he'd made a mistake with his decision. A hand grabbed the back of his jacket, and as he slowed, trying desperately to get the treacherous garment off, another hand grabbed his arm. He tried to pull away, to wriggle, to get the hands off, but he was a thin kid, and these guys were big.

They shoved him back against a wall, and one grabbed him by the collar.

"We've got a message for your Dad," he growled in an English accent, and the other punched him in the stomach. "Tell him," he continued, barely giving a moment for Declan to try to breathe around the pain in his stomach, "that if we can't find him, we'll take out our anger on the people we can find." They both punched Declan a few more times, mostly on his torso, then as he began to crumple, one kneed him in the stomach, then kicked him one more time as he fell to the hard ground.

They strolled off, casually, as if they'd just had a friendly drink, rather than beaten up a teenage boy, but Declan stayed where he was for a while longer. He'd had fights at school before, of course he had, but this was so different. Could someone just do that to you and walk away? No one stopped them, there were only a handful of people about.

There was a sudden sound of running feet towards him, and Declan scrambled up, ready to run, but it was only Adam.

"Dec! Are you alright? What the fuck just happened?"

Declan leant against the wall, and, trying to look casual rather than in pain, shrugged at the question.

He now had even more to think about. There was only one reason those men had given for attacking him. His father.

What the hell was he supposed to do now?

**Thank you to everyone who has reviewed or favourited so far. I love hearing what you think, so can I have some more please? x**


	11. Chapter 11

Paddy was woken by the knocks on his bedroom door. It was insistent, cold.

"Padraig, it's time to get up," called a voice to match

His Dad. Still angry with him. He wondered if Dad was going to drive him into school. Maybe he'd talk to the teachers like Mum did – like a normal parent. Would Ste come too? He didn't know if he wanted that. It would make Ste seem too much like a parent, and Ste was a long way from that.

Well, that was unlikely, anyway. Dad'd probably just drop him off at the gates, and disappear off somewhere. It's not like he was the kind of Dad who made him do homework and checked his reports.

He stumbled out of bed, and dug through the bag his mother packed for him. His school uniform was crumpled from where he'd left it in a bag all night, but he didn't care, and he shoved it on haphazardly, then kept his head down as he went out into the living area.

His Dad was sat on the sofa, flicking through the channels on telly. "That was quick, you ready?" he asked, barely looking at him.

"Is there something to eat?" Paddy asked.

"Nope, not had a chance yet. Thought we'd stop at a café," Dad replied, standing and turning off the telly.

The bathroom door opened and Ste stepped out with just a towel around his waist. He turned pink at the sight of Paddy. "Sorry," he said, and pulled the towel tighter around him, then, after a moment of indecision, darted across the living room to the room he shared with Paddy's Dad. Paddy watched his Dad trail the journey with hungry eyes and a small smirk on his mouth.

"Er, you got to clean your teeth and stuff, yeah?" he said, not looking at Paddy, "Yeah," he answered for him, and got up and followed Ste into the bedroom. Feeling extra sulky, Paddy stropped into the bathroom and slammed the door shut behind him. Dad was a disgusting pervert. Paddy didn't think about Ste like that. He cared about him, like properly, didn't just want to perve at him. He cleaned his teeth half-heartedly then went out to wait for his father, scowling.

Dad appeared a few minutes later, a grin on his face. He shut the bedroom door behind him, and turned to Paddy, finally looking a little sheepish. "Ready now?"

"Yeah," Paddy replied. "Is Ste coming?"

"No," Dad replied, obviously trying to be kind, "he's still getting dressed, and I thought we could do with a chat."

God, that didn't sound good. The last thing Paddy needed was Dad trying to be nice.

There was a buzz on the intercom. Dad gave him a small smile and answered it, listened for a while, then invited whoever it was up, with a new frown on his face.

He looked at Paddy, suspiciously. "It's the police," he said, "you make any more calls, Padraig?"

"No," Paddy replied, annoyed at the suggestion.

"Right," Dad replied, not looking any less suspicious. He walked to his bedroom and told Ste through the door that some coppers were coming. Ste poked his head round the door.

"Why?" he asked, panic clear in his voice.

"Don't ask me," Dad replied, and looked again at Padraig. Ste followed his gaze.

That was typical, Dad suspecting Paddy, when he hadn't even done anything wrong, "I ain't done anything!" he cried.

"Paddy, we just need to know, that's all," Ste said, trying to be kind.

Paddy let out a noise of disgust, and stormed back to his room, slamming the door behind him. He could listen to any conversation through the door.

* * *

Ste stared at the door Paddy slammed behind himself, feeling a panic rise within him he wasn't sure he'd be able to control.

"Hey," said Brendan, calmly, "don't worry, it's probably just about what happened yesterday, like an incident report or something."

"But what if he's…" he trailed off. There was too much Paddy could have done; a repeat of what he'd done before, or something new, or even the truth about Brendan's father.

"We don't know yet," Brendan soothed, "and remember, there's nothing he could have told them that we can't just deny, yeah?"

He pulled Ste out of the bedroom and into his arms, and it was comforting, but probably would have been more so if Brendan had been less jittery.

Eventually Brendan pulled away, and looked at him. "You know, however much I love seeing you like that, you might want to put some more clothes on before the old Bill arrive."

Ste flushed, remembering he wasn't fully dressed, and darted back into the master bedroom to find a top. By the time he came out again, there was a light knocking on the door.

Brendan opened the door. Two again, one the woman from yesterday, the other a different man.

"Mr Brendan Brady," she started, "we met yesterday afternoon, I'm PC Kennedy, and this is PC Stevens. May we come in?"

"Sure," Brendan replied, "is this about Padraig calling yesterday?"

"I'm afraid not sir," she said, sadly, professionally, "do you mind if we all sit down?"

Ste glanced at Brendan, this didn't sound like an accusation, this sounded like bad news.

"What's happened?" he asked, darting forward, images of Amy and the kids flying through his mind.

"I'm afraid we do have some bad news. Mr Brady, your father was found dead two days ago in a farm house near the border."

Ice ran down Ste's body. Part of him knew he should have been more prepared for this moment. Brendan had told him to expect it, the body wouldn't go undiscovered forever, but he was suddenly terrified for Brendan.

Ste wondered if his face showed the right emotion.

Brendan cleared his throat, "How… how did he die?" he asked. And though Ste knew he had to ask, in case he revealed he already knew, he worried if that would be the normal first question of a grieving son.

"We can't be certain until the post mortem," PC Kennedy said, softly, "but it seems he may have committed suicide."

Post mortem? Would that uncover that it wasn't suicide? He looked at Brendan, hoping for a clue how to behave.

Brendan was silent for a few moments longer, like he was deep in thought.

"Are you aware of the history in the family?" he asked eventually, not really looking at the police officers.

"Not me personally, sir, I just intercepted a call that the news was to be given to a Mrs Margaret Brady locally, and Mr Brendan and Miss Cheryl Brady of Hollyoaks, Cheshire. As I knew you were here, sir, I offered to bring the news myself."

"Well maybe you should have checked," Ste said, suddenly annoyed. What were they thinking? Even if they didn't know the truth about what happened to Brady, they still should have been aware of the warrant for Brady's arrest and what the charge was. This was the sort of thing that had stopped Brady being found in time.

"Well, thank you for your time, officers," Brendan said, more calmly, but still coldly, "but maybe once you've checked my father's record you will understand why we are not crippled by grief."

The officers glanced at each other.

"Er…" Kennedy started.

"Good bye, then," Brendan interrupted.

The police officers looked at each other, "Er, we do have some formalities we need to ask of you, identification of the body for example."

"And I have two children I need to tell that they're Grandfather is dead," Brendan said angrily.

"We'll come to the station when they're at school, yeah?" Ste interrupted, trying to calm the situation.

"Thank you, Mr … Hay was it?" Kennedy asked.

"Yeah," Ste replied, already moving towards the door.

"Mr Hay," she repeated, looking at him carefully. Ste opened the door for them, and they trooped out. His heart was beating far too fast, though his chest felt like an elephant was sat on it, and he couldn't meet their gazes as they passed him. It took all his effort not to slam the door behind them.

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**Also follow me, electricviolini.**


	12. Chapter 12

"So," Brendan started, in the uneasy tone of fathers to teenage sons everywhere, as the two of them drove casually to the school, "you alright?"

Padraig grunted. It was starting to get on Brendan's nerves, this tragically misunderstood act of his youngest son. He knew the boy had been through a lot, but he was sure that if it had been Declan in this position, he would talk to Brendan about it, and would find a way through. Though, of course, Brendan as a child would never have done anything of the sort.

He needed to try again, get through to the boy. He couldn't let their relationship continue like this, and this car journey was his best chance.

"Did you hear what those police officers told us this morning?" he asked, quietly.

Padraig grunted again, and Brendan felt a huge surge of annoyance. "What is your problem Padraig?!" he found himself almost shouting. Padraig flinched away from him, and he instantly regretted it. "Sorry, I'm sorry," he ran a hand over his face, and forced himself to calm down. Padraig still didn't show any sign of wanting to respond, so Brendan tried again, "Look, you know you can talk to me, right?" He let a few moments pass in silence. He wanted this to sound real. It was real. "I mean, I know I'm not your favourite person, and I know a lot of that is my fault, but …" he sighed. But what? He wasn't going to break up with Steven for the kid, he would never let Steven out of his life ever again. He couldn't bring his father back from the dead either, though he had hoped Padraig, with everything he had seen, with the way he'd called Brendan for help, would understand that that had been the only course of action left. "I did it all for the people I love, you know?"

Paddy didn't respond. He barely showed that he'd heard. Brendan wondered if he could shock the boy into answering him. Unfortunately, the answer was probably not. He tried a new tack.

"Am I gonna get a talking to from your teachers today?"

Paddy made a face. That was a kind of response. Brendan smirked. He'd been in enough trouble with his teachers at school, he didn't expect anything less of his kids.

"What will they say?" he asked.

"They won't say anything," Paddy grumbled, "you don't have to come in."

"Don't I? Don't I need to sign something to say we know about the exclusion?"

Paddy shrugged and mumbled something.

"Well, I had best come in and check, yeah? And maybe I should call the parents of these guys you were fighting with. That's what normal parents do, isn't it?"

Padraig looked flabbergasted by the suggestion.

"What?" Brendan teased.

"You can't start being like a Dad Dad now!" Paddy cried, and Brendan couldn't help being struck by the choice of words. What a way to put it.

"Can't I?" he asked, quietly.

"No! Just drop me and go home."

"I can't do that I'm afraid," Brendan breathed.

"Why?!" Padraig demanded, sounding like Brendan had suggested going into school to bring about the apocalypse.

"Maybe it's time I started being a Dad Dad," Brendan replied. "Maybe Steven's been a good influence on me."

Paddy crossed his arms as Brendan drove into the school car park. It was pretty full, but Brendan didn't really care much about the rented car, so parked haphazardly over a couple of spaces. Then he marched into the school with his youngest son, glowering at the odd kid that got in his way. He was asked to sit and wait in a blue chair at the reception, where he felt ridiculous watching all the kids walk past to get to their classes. Padraig clearly decided that he didn't want to be associated with him so sat on the furthest chair he could find. Brendan considered winding him up further by moving next to him and putting an arm around him or something, but decided that probably wasn't the best way to mend their relationship.

But it needed mending. It was going to be a job and a half, but it broke his heart to see his son seeming to hate him. He needed a proper plan.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Paddy could not believe his father was sat here, in the reception of his school. It was like two separate worlds had collided strangely, and his dad was left looking lost and out of place.

They were both called into the Deputy Head's office, where Mr Vance waffled on about the expectations of the school and the importance of interpersonal skills. By Dad's facial expression, Paddy was pretty certain he took in about as much as Paddy. Dad was strangely quiet for Dad, though, and Paddy wondered what he was thinking.

It had been awkward in the car, Dad trying to talk to him about his "problems". Like a quick conversation could change the fact that Dad was a lying murderer who shouldn't be allowed near Ste. And then he'd shouted at Paddy.

As if he was the one who had the right to be angry.

And Paddy was a bit worried the police were going to ask him about Granddad. If they did, what would they say? And what should Paddy say in return? What if he couldn't hide what happened? What if they saw through it all? He was only a kid; he wasn't supposed to be made to lie for his parents.

An LSA called Mrs Peters, a loud, quite obnoxious woman who had once called Paddy a little brat for talking in assembly, was brought in to the office, and Paddy was told he would be spending the day with her. He made a face, which got him a stern look from Mr Vance. A whole day, doing worksheets, with no one to talk to! That sounded like hell to Padraig.

His father coughed politely. "I'd like to say something," he cleared his throat again, then put a hand on Paddy's shoulder, which Paddy frowned at in confusion. "I know you have your rules and you have to follow them, but I know my son acted with the best intentions. He stood up for someone who couldn't stand up for themselves, and I am proud of him for that."

Mr Vance looked awkward for a moment, but Paddy found himself strangely touched. He'd never expected his father to be proud of him for anything, Paddy never even told him when they won at rugby, and now he was standing up to his teachers for him. Not in an angry way, like the way he'd reacted when Paddy had lied about Ste, but in a calm, strong kind of way.

Except it occurred to him quickly that it probably wasn't true. It had nothing to do with Paddy protecting a girl, or being proud. It was about what the police had come about that morning. Dad was scared. Dad thought he was going to tell the truth, and get him sent to prison. This was Dad trying to butter him up. Well, Paddy wasn't going to fall for that. He kept his gaze on the spot on the desk he'd chosen when he first walked in, and kept it there as Mr Vance thanked Dad for coming in, and gave Paddy one last talking to about fighting. Then Mrs Peters ordered him out of the office. Paddy groaned, accepting the pat on the back from his Dad, who promised to pick him up at the end of school.

When they'd go back to that apartment and play happy families and pretend. Pretend that Dad wasn't like a dangerous disease, that Ste was happy with him, that no one had hurt anyone, that they all wouldn't be a million times happier if Dad was just somewhere else.

Paddy sighed. He needed a plan.

**AN: REVIEWS MAKE CHAPTERS COME FASTER!**

**AN 2: LSA = Learning Support Assistant - like a teaching assistant, but what they call them nowadays. **


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: So this story ain't flowing so well as the others. Issues and issues. So apologies for taking so long on every chapter.**

Ste hurried around the little supermarket down the road from the apartment, grabbing stuff for breakfast and lunch. Brendan was a fry-up type of guy, but as he'd gone to a café with Paddy, Ste could satisfy his morning craving for sugary cereal. He'd never real grown out of that as a teenager, and with the kids, it had made sense to only buy the one box, though Amy sometimes pulled a face at them.

He grabbed some stuff for sandwiches, then saw that squirty cream was on offer. He was sorely tempted. While Paddy had been in the bathroom, Brendan had snuck into the bedroom, tugged the towel from Ste's waist and leisurely racked his eyes up and down Ste's surprised naked body. Ste was sure he'd blushed from head to toe at that look, but then Brendan had snogged him so thoroughly he had been one step away from tearing all the older man's clothes off too. It had felt so dirty, standing naked while a fully clothed man pushed a demanding tongue into his mouth and firm hands roamed his body.

He had been surprised when a smirking Brendan had pulled away and deemed it time to get Paddy to school. Surprised and very annoyed.

Now the cream was sat there, looking at him temptingly. He could get some revenge; tease Brendan mercilessly for a bit.

He went for it, shoving the two-for-the-price-of-one bottles into his basket, then got some strawberries for good measure, before queuing up behind an old lady, trying not to look like a grinning idiot in a supermarket full of strangers.

A tall man stood behind him. Just a little too close.

Ste didn't dare turn. His mind had gone to the worst possible place. The guy was silent, just stood, his body centimetres from Ste's back. Ste was sure he could feel the man's breath on his neck. This was it – they'd found them. One of them stood behind Ste. Was it the same guys as the hotel? Ste was too scared to find out.

He decided to pretend he hadn't noticed. That was probably the best thing to do: then, if he found the opportunity, they wouldn't be expecting him to run. The old lady finished paying, and Ste put his basket on the checkout and unloaded. The cashier lazily put the items through the till, and said the price, leaving Ste to stuff everything into bags.

He paid with Brendan's credit card (he'd decided the night they left that he was not paying for a single thing on this trip; that was Brendan's problem) and then left the shop. He hesitated on the street. There were people here, around the shops, but if he walked down towards the apartments there would be fewer and fewer passers-by. He had enough experience of people like this to know that he should stay where other people could see him. People were unlikely to hurt him in front of witnesses.

He walked into the café next door and sat at a table, staring out of the window, with his heart beating like a jet engine.

And waited.

No one followed him. He bought a coffee and drank it slowly. Still no sign of anyone hanging around outside or coming into the café. Once he'd finished the drink he decided to risk it.

He went outside again, looked around. There was no sign of the guy from the shop. Ste breathed a little easier. This was one of the many problems of being with Brendan – he regularly thought the worst had happened.

He did a lot of double takes on the way back to the apartment, stopping and pretending to do up a shoe when he thought people were following, making sure no one watched him put the code in at the front door, making sure no followed him in. He didn't relax again until he got back up to their apartment. He really hoped it was nothing, that he hadn't led someone right to where they were staying. He shoved the shopping away into cupboards and the fridge, and thought idly if Brendan had considered the difficulties of running two homes. Judging by the completely lack of anything useful around the place, the answer was probably not.

He tore open the strawberries and left them alongside the cream on the low coffee table in the sitting area, though completely without excitement of his original intention, and sat, waiting for Brendan to return. He wasn't very long. Ste watched him swagger into the apartment, with a clear confidence that only served to piss off Ste even more. He probably hoped Ste was still in the mood from before, the kiss in the bedroom. As if the visit from the police wouldn't have put him off. Well, the visit hadn't really, after all Ste had still bought the strawberries and cream. But he was in a different sort of mood now.

He gave Brendan his best glare.

The cocky swagger stopped and Brendan stood on the other side of the table.

"You alright?" Brendan asked, unusually nervously. They both hated fighting.

"Yeah," Ste mumbled, making it clear that he most definitely wasn't 'alright' by the tone he delivered it in.

"What's the matter?" Brendan asked.

"You!" Ste found himself shouting, "you're the matter!"

"What? What have I done now?" cried Brendan

"What do you think?" Ste shouted.

"How should I know?" Brendan exclaimed, which really annoyed Ste, "I go out for an hour and I come back to a sulk!"

"I've just been shopping!" Ste started, accusatorily.

"Yeah, you wanted to!"

"And there was a bloke…"

"What happened?" Brendan asked, suddenly clearly worried, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm alright!" Ste shouted, "Nothing happened, no thanks to you!"

Brendan's face went from worried to relieved in a split second, then shoved his hands in his pockets, now completely unconcerned and unrepentant. "So what's the problem?"

Ste threw the first thing he could put a hand on at him.

Brendan looked surprised for a moment.

"Did you just… throw a strawberry at me?"

Ste looked at the slightly pink stain on Brendan's previously white shirt.

"Er…" he said.

Brendan stooped down and picked up the slightly squashed mess from the floor, where it landed after it had hit him. He looked at it in confusion for a moment. Then threw it back at Ste.

Ste had been expecting it though, and ducked, scooping up another strawberry as he did so, and threw that at his boyfriend. Brendan ducked too, and grabbed the cream off the table, squirting as much at Ste as he could reach. Ste grabbed up the tub of strawberries and threw more as he backed away, and put the sofa between them too. Brendan wasn't perturbed, he shook the can in his hand, and squirted again.

"Will you stop throwing food at me?" Ste cried.

"I didn't start this Steven," Brendan answered, a wide grin on his face, and Ste threw more strawberries while backing up further, as Brendan stepped onto and over the couch as though it were a tiny step rather than a full sized sofa. He got closer and closer to Ste, who realised he was going to hit the wall if he wasn't careful. He had one chance; get to the bedroom and shut the door before he was smothered in cream. He made to run.

Brendan caught him around the waist and pulled him back over the sofa. They fell sideways over the arms, and Brendan rolled them over so Ste was on his back, wriggling, clinging onto any part if his boyfriend's body that he could reach, and in moments they were kissing. Ste didn't even remember it starting, he just suddenly realised his arms were around his lover's neck and their tongues were duelling.

As Brendan tugged Ste's t-shirt up and over his head, Ste realised he'd failed twice this morning. Not only had he failed to have a proper argument with Brendan, which itself had been the second plan of the day, he'd failed to get his revenge for earlier by using his supplies to torture Brendan. Though the older man did have some satisfying pink stains on his previously pristine clothes, it was hardly the revenge Ste had imagined earlier, but as their bare bodies met, Ste deciding this was a far better activity anyway.

The buzzer for downstairs went while Brendan was finding his way inside Ste. Neither could have stopped if they'd wanted to. Ste's stomach was a knot of passionate tension, desperate for release, and Brendan was gazing at him like he was the only thing in the whole world that mattered. They were travelling together, somewhere beautiful and impossible.

Ste wasn't sure when the knocking on the door started, though he became aware of it only when he was coming down the other side, Brendan sprawled on top of him, both their legs raised uncomfortably on the armrest of the sofa, their breath hot on each other's faces and sweat coating their bodies. Brendan seemed to notice it at about the same time. He stood up and grabbed some clothes off the floor.

"Just a second," he shouted as he threw some clothes at Ste, who pulled them on in a rush.

"Mr Brady?" called a voice from outside.

"Yeah, I said I'm coming!" Brendan shouted back.

"Mr Brady? Open up, it's the police!"

Ste stilled. Why were they back again? It had only been a few hours, and they'd said they were coming down to the station already.

Brendan had pulled on his jeans. Ste made sure he was decent as Brendan opened the door and allowed the insistent knockers into the apartment.

Where they tore Ste and Brendan's world apart.

**May have pushed the limits of 'T' there, sorry! Please review, even if it's to complain about something.**


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: So, the show managed to out dark me. I was quite impressed. Will try to keep this up, even with the now completely AU nature of my very premise. Never mind.**

**Enjoy!**

The words were familiar. He'd seen them on telly so many times, and had similar ones directed at himself more than once, but even so, there were only a couple that actually penetrated his post coital stupor.

"Brendan Brady."

"Arrest."

"Murder."

Those three kept circling Ste's brain, as he watched the love of his life be shoved far too aggressively against a wall for a man showing no resistance whatsoever, and have his hands cuffed behind his back. The pleasant post-coital stupor became a miserable shock, and he realised he was crying and shouting.

Brendan was being arrested, Brendan was going to prison, all because he had tried to protect Ste.

"No!" he shouted.

"It's OK, Steven," Brendan said, pulling away from the policeman holding him and towards Ste, "Call my solicitor – Cheryl's got the number, and then you need to pick up the boys and take them to Eileen's, OK?"

This was so unfair. They couldn't arrest Brendan for ridding the world of that monster! But Brendan was being so calm. Ste nodded, but cried "He hasn't done anything wrong!" at the officers who were now dragging Brendan from the flat.

"Steven, I need you to talk to Padraig!" Brendan said, calm despite being pulled around by idiots.

And it clicked. Brendan was being arrested for murdering his father. It was obvious what had happened.

The door slammed shut behind the police and Brendan, leaving an ugly silence that filled the flat, and Ste's legs gave way. He fell to his knees and stared in horror at the slice of wood that separated him from Brendan. It seemed to turn to prison bars as he stared, Brendan, pale and broken behind them, bruised and bearded like Ste remembered, that expression so heartbreaking. The weight of that image almost broke Ste.

But he couldn't abandon Brendan to that fate again. It was up to him now, to be strong and sort it out.

The first person he called was Cheryl. Their relationship was strained, polite at best, but she listened to him and didn't try to blame him. She promised to call a solicitor and Eileen too. Ste took a deep breath to thank her, then changed his mind.

"Er, I think I better talk to Eileen. 'Cause I'm here, like…"

Cheryl didn't sound like she thought that the best idea ever had, but she didn't protest either. Ste was grateful for that at least, though was a little distressed at the lie. It wasn't Eileen he needed to speak to. It was Paddy. After all, only 3 people knew what happened with Brady, and it didn't take a genius to figure out why a few hours ago they were the poor grieving relatives and now Brendan was prime suspect. Paddy had made the threat, and now he'd followed through on it.

Which made this doubly Ste's fault. If Ste had been stronger, Brady wouldn't have been able to target him. If Ste had fought better, he could have got both of them out of there, and Brendan wouldn't have had to do anything so awful. And if Ste had listened to Paddy, if he'd just paid attention, given them space, not pushed their relationship in his face, maybe taken some time apart, then maybe Paddy wouldn't be this angry. He clearly hated Ste so much that he'd do anything to keep him away from Brendan. Even get Brendan locked away. Of course, Paddy hadn't seen Brendan straight out of prison. He didn't know what more time inside would do to the man.

But Ste could still talk to him. If he picked them both up from school, and talked to Paddy... Promised to leave Brendan if he retracted what he said...

Would that even be enough now though? If the police thought it was murder, they'd look for more evidence. Ste hadn't gone back to check how well Brendan had cleared up. But it hadn't been a very long one, had it? And Ste and Paddy had stayed there all night. Their fingerprints would be everywhere.

They might come for Ste any second.

He had to talk to Paddy, and now, before it was too late. He found the address of the school online and then looked it up on a map. He wasn't legally allowed to drive, so it was probably a bad idea to try that now. He rushed out of the flat and fidgeted all the way down in the lift. He hurried along streets he didn't recognise, the idea that maybe those dealers were still after him barely registering through his new fears for Brendan. And, of course, himself.

Brady had used condoms when he'd fucked him. Ste had been incredibly relieved when the old man had brought them out at the time – he didn't trust Brady one jot not to be diseased with his attitude to sex, but as he rushed through the streets of Belfast, he realised one crucial and vile thing.

He had no idea where those condoms were now.

* * *

Declan sat at the very back of his maths class as his teacher waffled on about simultaneous equations. Listening was difficult – he'd never tried to sit through a class while nursing such painful bruises. His mate Adam kept staring at him. He seemed to think Declan was some sort of gangster now. It was kind of embarrassing.

And then things got worse.

A student knocked on the door, quietly, self-consciously.

"Yes?" snapped Mr Drakes, the maths teacher.

"Er, I've got a message for Declan Brady…" the kid mumbled from the door way, a piece of paper in his hand.

"Well?" Mr Drakes demanded, unkindly, not even glancing at Declan, "what is it?"

"Er… can I just hand him the note?" the kid asked.

"Just read it out and get out of my classroom, I've had enough of these interruptions!" Drakes returned, dismissively, "I'll not have note passing in my classroom."

Declan put his head in hands - this was not going to be good.

"Er…" the kid said, glancing at the note.

"Get on with it!" Drakes nearly shouted, whiteboard pen already posed to continue. The entire class were glancing curiously between the kid with the message and Declan.

It got worse.

"Erm, Declan Brady's Dad has been arrested for murder, and his boyfriend Ste is here to collect him."

Declan flushed bright red. Though the idea of his Dad going to prison again scared the shit out of him, for some reason what struck him most was how angry he was with the kid's use of pronouns.

"His boyfriend, not mine!" he said, loudly. "I'm not gay."

Then realised that probably didn't make this less embarrassing.

He snapped to it, grabbed his bag, shoving in his books in, refusing to look at anyone else as the buzzing whispered started.

"Er," said Drakes, more politely now he was so embarrassed, "so pages 56 and 57 for homework, Bra… Declan."

Declan nodded, and hurried out of the room. The kid who'd come to collect him looked like he was something strange and suspicious someone had found in a canal.

He wondered if anyone else at school had a Dad who'd twice been arrested for murder. He kind of doubted it. He was going to be that weirdo again. Well, him and Paddy. He suspected Paddy was going to react badly.

They got to reception, and the kid wandered off with one more curious glance. Ste was waiting, fidgeting, looking like he could faint or scream or throw a tantrum worthy of Declan's father at any moment. He looked at Declan, his face screwed up.

"What the hell happened to you?" he demanded.

"Nothing," Dec replied, tidying up his shirt a bit. Another time, he was sure Ste would have fought his way to the bottom of that, but right now he was already too worked up, because at that moment, Paddy arrived.

Ste stared at him, and failed to keep the touch of disgust from his expression.

"Come on, we've gotta get back."

He turned and marched out of the school, not checking that either of them were following him.

Declan glanced at Paddy, who glanced back, looking confused.

"What's going on?" Paddy asked.

Declan shrugged, and followed Ste. Paddy did the same.

**AN: If you want more, review!**


	15. Chapter 15

Ste was half ready to shout and scream at Paddy, to show him mercilessly all the things he had done, all the ways he was hurting his own father. But losing his temper would not help. He needed to stay calm and in control and try to be sympathetic, show Paddy he was a reasonable man.

Which was going to be tough when at the moment Ste could barely look at the boy.

Declan caught up with him so Ste gave him a sympathetic look. Ste thought the teen was looking a bit bedraggled, but, of course, he had just been told his Dad had been arrested for murder, but without the frame of reference Ste and Paddy had. Ste was in no mood to explain. He had no idea where to start. And there was something about the way Declan was holding himself as he walked that was worrying Ste, but his brain was too messed up to figure it out right now.

"So, what happened?" Declan asked, and when he opened his mouth to answer, Ste realised Brendan's oldest son didn't know most of the things that had happened that had led to this moment.

"Er, it's a long story," he said, instead.

"Did he do it?" Declan asked, and Ste must have grimaced. He wished he could have just said 'of course not,' but he found it hard to lie to Declan or Paddy.

"Your Dad doesn't go around hurting innocent people. Declan," he said instead.

Dec snorted, and Ste caught a strange look on the boy's face.

"What?" he demanded.

Declan didn't answer, and Ste wished he could have left him at school. It was Paddy he needed to talk to, and balancing what Declan should and shouldn't know would be a nightmare if he was to have that conversation properly.

"Who was murdered?" Declan asked.

Ste flinched. He didn't dare look at Paddy as he said "They told us this morning that they found your Granddad's body."

There was a small pause before Declan replied "Oh."

"I'm sorry," Ste said, not really knowing what else to say.

"Well," Dec said, coldly, "Granddad wasn't exactly innocent, was he?"

But Ste wasn't sure if that was a response to the sorry or to Ste's earlier defence of Brendan.

"Why do they think Dad did it?"

"How should I know?" Ste snapped, too quickly.

Declan snorted again, "Well, that makes me think you don't know anything," he retorted, sarcastically.

Ste mock glared at him. Both Brendan's kids were too clever sometimes. And Ste couldn't help his gaze skimming swiftly onto Paddy who was shuffling behind them.

Declan caught the look.

"You think Paddy did something?!" he exclaimed.

"No," Ste lied, though a two year old could have seen through it.

Declan stared at him. "Why…" he started, but then someone walking the other way bumped gently into him. It seemed to silence him. Or maybe he just realised why that would be a silly question. Paddy was capable of almost anything.

They got to the flat, and Ste opened the doors to let them in, not speaking. He still didn't trust himself not to lose it.

"Why don't you both go to your rooms, and I'll let you know if I hear anything?" he suggested.

"What, you took us out of school so we could sit on our own and worry?" Declan asked.

"Just… do it, yeah!" Ste cried, rubbing his face with annoyance.

Declan sighed with annoyance, "Whatever," he said, and gracelessly stamped to his room, slamming the door.

Paddy didn't move.

Ste took a few moments to look at him. The boy was staring at him, a look of worry on his face. He knew he was about to be questioned.

"I told you to..."

"What happened though?" Paddy interrupted.

Ste let out a sound of disgust. The devious behaviour was coming out already.

"Go to your room Paddy," he said.

"But why did you bring us out of school, though?" Paddy asked, and Ste was impressed with his acting ability. He was still managing to look concerned. And confused.

"Don't pretend you don't know nothing!" Ste exclaimed.

"But …"

"Stop lying!" Ste shouted. "Do you understand what you've done! Your Dad will be inside for decades! You'll be in your thirties when he comes out, he'll miss everything, for you and for Declan, and it's your fault!"

Paddy kept staring at him, his mouth open, gaping, tears in his eyes. Tears of guilt. Ste instantly regretted the outburst. This was exactly what he'd been trying to avoid, sending Paddy further into his shell, making him even less likely to cooperate. Ste felt like an idiot for losing his temper.

"Look…" he started, but Paddy was already off. He disappeared into his bedroom, throwing the door closed with one last panicked look at Ste.

Ste swore, alone in the living area.

* * *

Brendan had been shoved into an interview room the moment he arrived at the police station. It was cold and bare, he could cross the room in four paces and he was already feeling claustrophobic. He needed a way out, and fast. There was no way he could go to prison again.

He could feel the old him returning – the one that fidgeted and rippled with anger ready to burst. The one that he hated and the one that Steven was frightened of. His hatred of the walls, of being trapped, was clouding everything else, all those techniques from the anger management classes, all Steven's good advice was being lost in his panic. Even thinking of Steven didn't help, because all he could imagine was losing him. Being kept apart by stone walls and Brendan's anger.

But it was still better than letting that vile excuse of a man live to hurt Steven again.

Or letting him keep trying to make Padraig as twisted as he and Brendan were.

He threw himself on to the chair, feeling his legs jiggle about almost without his control. How long were they going to take? What were they doing? Were they still talking to Padraig?

He jumped up again, standing in his ready for anything stance, then shoved his hands in his pockets, trying to look relaxed. Well, he knew he was going to fail at that.

He was about to start pacing again when the door finally opened.

A man walked in. He stared at Brendan with curiosity for a few moments through thin rimmed glasses. His fair hair was tidily combed and gelled, its slight thinning and the gentle lines of his face suggesting he was maybe slightly older than Brendan. His face was gentle for a police officer's, who in Brendan's experience were usually hardnosed bastards, even when they were dressed smartly and looking for promotion. And there was something about him that was familiar. Brendan dismissed that quickly; he didn't know any coppers.

"Mr Brady," he greeted, kindly, "I'm sorry to keep you waiting."

But Brendan was in no mood for pleasantries. "What do you think you've got on me?"

The man didn't respond to the question or the anger in the voice. "Please be seated," he said.

Brendan didn't move, "I think you'll find I don't have to talk to you until I have a lawyer."

The man sat at the small desk, apparently unbothered by Brendan's words or actions.

"Of course," he said instead, and continued to stare at Brendan.

"Do I know you?" Brendan asked.

"I don't think so, Mr Brady," the police officer replied. "My name is DCI Robert McGrath."

The name didn't ring a bell, so Brendan just observed him, carefully.

"So, can you tell me about your father?" McGrath prompted, voice and posture still relaxed, gentle.

Who was this idiot?

"I think you have plenty of information on my father already," Brendan replied, stiffly, "when is my brief getting here?"

"Soon," the cop replied, "did you get on with your Dad?"

Brendan scoffed. "What, you want me to declare his virtues so you can throw everything he did back at me? Make out I'm a liar?"

He pushed the chair away hard so it scraped across the floor, and leant against the table, his face in McGrath's.

"I know what my father was. And I know where he is now, and it ain't up there," he said, pointing upwards, "but that doesn't mean I put him there," he finished, hoping it would ring with as much truth as the rest of his speech.

McGrath still seemed unaffected, even though Brendan had used some of his best intimidation techniques. Brendan guessed they were less effective while he was caged.

"No," McGrath replied, softly, "that doesn't. But your DNA on the rope suggests you did."

**Don't forget to review!**


	16. Chapter 16

Paddy was in a whole new world of misery. He thought last night had been bad when Ste had almost left because of him, and his Dad had humiliated him by throwing him into a bedroom, and he'd been excluded so unfairly. This was worse. This was hell itself.

A note had been brought to Mrs Peters, the woman who'd sat texting while he got on with the most boring worksheets ever made. She had looked at it, her expression freezing in a look of disapproval, and then she'd looked at Paddy with pity, but also a sense of resignation - like the letter had told her Paddy was somehow suddenly a lost cause.

"You're to go home," she said, "you're Dad's ..." she glanced at the letter again, her lip curling in disgust, "friend," she said, like the word was synonymous with 'pond scum', "is here to pick you up."  
Paddy had been confused. Why would Ste pick him up in the middle of the day? Why Ste and not Dad? Had something happened? Was Dad hurt?

He shoved his stuff quickly into his bag, and rushed down to the reception, Mrs Peters trailing behind him and beginning to puff from trying to keep up. All the kids were in classes somewhere, so no one could slow him. God he hoped Ste was OK.

He had reached the reception at a run, but Declan had got there first. He'd probably been given the message sooner, just because he was the oldest. It annoyed Paddy a bit, but it wasn't as important as Ste.

Ste didn't look hurt, but he looked kind of broken, like someone had aged him twenty years in a few hours. It was heart breaking to see, and Paddy froze at the sight. He had no clue what he should do. Should he give Ste a hug?

He had wanted to protect him from whatever had made him look that way. Paddy suspected his father.

But then Ste had looked at him. That one look had shaken Paddy. It was anger and hatred and misery all in one, and all of it directed at Paddy. He'd felt routed to the spot by it.

Ste had instructed them to follow. Not in a kind, or happy way, not a request like Ste usually did. It was an order, like the teachers gave, cold, impersonal. And then he walked off without another glance. He could barely look at Paddy.

The journey had been equally miserable. Declan had walked next to Ste, like they were the grown-ups together, and they barely even glanced back to check on Paddy - he could have fallen down a man hole or anything and they wouldn't have noticed.

When they'd got back to the flat, Ste'd ordered them both to their rooms. Paddy was not going to just do that. He was going to find out what had happened, why suddenly Ste had looked at him like that.

It had not gone well.

And now Ste hated him.

Like, really really hated him. What he'd said at the car that day, about it not being Paddy's fault, about Paddy not being to blame for what his Granddad had done, that had all been lies. He did blame Paddy, he blamed him so much he had shouted it at him.

Paddy had run. It was the only thing left. He leant against the door to this new room of his. He would probably always hate the sight of this place now.

And where the hell was Dad? What did Ste mean? Inside? Inside what?

Paddy wasn't sure how long he'd sat on the floor of his room with his back against the door, his feet braced in case anyone tried to enter without his permission. The flat was almost silent.

Everyone must be hiding in their own rooms. What was the point of Ste bringing them out of school, so they could all sit by themselves? Why had he even bothered?

Eventually there was a gentle knock against his door.

"Paddy?" called Ste's voice, gently, "can I come in?"

Paddy ignored him.

"Please, Paddy, I'm sorry I shouted. We need to talk."

Paddy continued to ignore him. Obviously they needed to talk, but not if Ste hated him. He couldn't stand that.

"Paddy, please!" Ste was sounding desperate now, begging, and knocking again and again at the door.

Paddy let him suffer.

The knocking grew louder. "Paddy, you can't do this to your Dad!"

"Do what?" he asked angrily, without thinking.

"Whatever you think about me, don't take it out on him!"

Paddy frowned. What had he done? Was this about last night? But that hadn't hurt Dad much at all. That was what really annoyed Paddy about it

"I haven't done anything to Dad!" he protested.

"Did you think we wouldn't guess Paddy?" said Ste, patronisingly.

And Paddy began to suspect he was being accused of something unfairly. Something had happened, and Ste had assumed Paddy had caused it. That was so unfair!

"What am I supposed to have done?"

"Paddy, we know you called the police about your Granddad."

"No I didn't!" Paddy objected, truthfully. "I'm no grass!"

He actually heard Ste sigh, "Don't lie, Paddy."

"I'm not!"

"We can still fix this, though, we just need to say you made a mistake."

Paddy jumped up and threw the door open. "I haven't done anything!" he shouted right at Ste's surprised face.

"Paddy, your Dad is a good person; you don't have to hurt him to get me out of your life!"

"I don't want you out of my life!" he cried.

"Look, I know I should have listened to you..."

"Listen to me now, then!"

"I know it was wrong to ignore you, and I promise you, I'll get out of the way, I'll stay out of Brendan's life, but please, Paddy, you can't send him to prison! It'll kill him!"

A wave of dread shot through Paddy.

"What?" he gasped. He wanted his father away from Ste; he didn't want him locked away from all of them.

"You can't send him to prison!"

"Why would he... I didn't tell anyone!"

Ste stared at him.

"You didn't call the police?"

"I've been at school all day!"

"Then..." Ste stuttered, face pale and terrified, "what have they got on him?"

A knock on the front door of the apartment interrupted before Paddy could say he didn't know. Ste stepped cautiously towards it, and Paddy realised why he was so scared. If the police had something on Dad, they probably could get something on Ste too.

"Who is it?" Ste called cautiously at the door.

There was a slight pause before an English voice said, "It's the police, open up!"

Ste looked at Paddy again, tears in his eyes.

"I'll get them to drop you back at your Mum's," he said, quietly. Paddy nodded in response, and Ste put his hand on the handle, hesitating one more time.

The door to Declan's room flew open. "Don't!" he shouted.

But the door was already open.

**AN: You all thought it was Padraig, did you? Poor little Padraig! **

**If you have enjoyed, please review!**


	17. Chapter 17

**AN: Warning, this is possibly the most horrible chapter I have ever written, which is saying something. **

**Enjoy is the wrong word.**

Brendan let the surprise show. It was probably best to suggest he was surprised, even if he wasn't for the right reason. He'd assumed this was because Paddy had blabbed, as some sort of revenge for his continued relationship with Steven. This was worse - his DNA on the rope he'd used to kill his father could be a real problem. It would be hard to prove false.

McGrath was calmly watching his reaction to everything, "As you know, we have your DNA on record from your previous arrests."

"I know," Brendan replied, quietly, though inside his brain was working furiously, searching for an excuse for the oversight.

"Are you like your father, Brendan?" McGrath asked, quietly. He had a power did McGrath. Brendan imagined he never had to raise his voice to get attention. He just kind of drew you to him.

"No!" Brendan replied, angry at the suggestion.

"Your father spent the last few months of his life hiding from the police, is that correct?"

"You know it is," Brendan growled.

"And why was that?" McGrath replied.

"You know that too," Brendan replied, sad at the thought of how long he'd failed to protect Steven.

"Please," McGrath urged, "I'd like to hear your understanding of it."

Brendan failed to see what game this guy was playing, but this was all already known by them, anyway. He just had to stay calm. Or at least appear it.

"He tried to rape someone," Brendan replied.

McGrath didn't hesitate. He seemed like the sort of person who thought everything out so carefully he never needed to hesitate. He used the silence to support his power; his quiet, unassuming power; the opposite of Brendan's manic threatening energy.

"Who did he try to rape?" the policeman asked.

"Steven," Brendan replied, quietly, tears in his eyes as it all came back. The state Steven had been in when he'd found him after. The way he walked. The way he'd shrunk that day. How scared Brendan had been that he'd never get that mouthy chav back, that Steven would be a broken shell forever because he was too much of a coward to do what needed to be done the first time he'd seen his father forcing himself on anyone.

"Your boyfriend?" McGrath prompted.

Brendan actually laughed. It was a ridiculous, meaningless word for his relationship.

"I'm sorry, is Steven Hay not your boyfriend?" McGrath asked, a frown deepening the gentle wrinkles between his eyes.

"I suppose he is," Brendan replied, wondering himself why he'd found it funny, "but … that term. It can't even begin to explain Steven."

"How would you explain Steven?"

"He's what makes me whole," replied Brendan, honestly.

McGrath stared at him a few moments longer, but Brendan barely noticed. He was falling apart. There was nothing he could do.

He'd lost Steven.

"Thank you for your help Mr Brady," said McGrath, softly, and stood, leaving. At the door he paused again, and looked back at Brendan. Brendan thought he saw sadness in the policeman's eyes, and maybe something else too. Understanding? Compassion? Or hatred? Brendan wasn't going to let himself care. He'd already lost.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Four men were through the door before Ste could even think about getting it closed again, and he knew instantly that not one of them was a police officer.

One punched him in the stomach, and while he was winded shoved him to the floor, but he didn't care about himself. "Run!" he shouted at the gobsmacked, terrified boys. It didn't work. Padraig ignored him completely, running at the man standing over Ste and jumped on him, fists punching, feet kicking. The man grunted, and grabbed both the boy's arms. Ste struggled to his feet to help Paddy, but someone was already taking the thugs place, shoving him back down and tying his hands behind him, a knee in his back.

Declan looked on in panic. One of the men reached him before he'd even begun to react, and had grabbed him, pulling both his arms behind his back.

One man had done nothing but stepped through the doorway and closed it behind him.

"Everyone do as you're told and no one needs to get hurt!" he almost sang, his voice rough, hard, pitiless. He surveyed the room, Ste held to the floor, uncertain whether to fight yet, Declan still staring in horror, head bowed in fear, Paddy struggling like a wildcat against the hands restraining him.

"Where's Brady?" the man who was obviously the leader asked.

Ste could barely breath he was so terrified.

"He's not here," he managed.

He looked at Ste coldly, "You that boyfriend of his?"

Ste didn't answer. He didn't need to.

"Never liked all that myself," the man, obviously the leader, said, "the thought of two men together, it's enough to turn ya stomach, ain't it?"

Ste decided that while tied up and outnumbered by unknown drug dealers was probably not the best time to get into sexuality politics.

Paddy didn't seem to care that this was not a battle he could possibly win. He was struggling like a loon, and shouted "Fuck off!" at the top of his voice.

"Will you shut that little shit up, Jim; he's pissing me right off!"

"Leave him alone, he's a just a kid!" Ste shouted, trying to dislodge the knee on his back. The only response he got was a grunted "shut it" and a pain in his shoulders from his arms being tugged away from his body. It made him grunt in pain, which made both Paddy and Declan struggle anew.

"Just punch him, you idiot!" the boss shouted, ignoring Ste.

The guy holding Declan did just that, letting go of one arm to punch the teen in the stomach, but the one holding Paddy looked worried.

"He's a kid, boss," he said, guiltily.

"You beat up this one," said the one holding Declan, and Ste would have smacked himself for not recognising that walk if his hands hadn't been tied behind him.

"Yeah, but he's like 17 or something, this one's barely out of nappies!"

"Fuck off!" Paddy shouted again, and bit one of the hands holding him. It was enough to decide the man. He punched the boy hard on the face. Paddy landed heavily on the floor, where his captor trapped him. Paddy seemed dazed, but only for a moment. The boss had barely turned his attention back to Ste when the boy shouted "That all you got? I've had worse from my Granddad!"

Ste wished he'd waited until a less hopeless situation to try to turn into Brendan.

The guy who'd knocked the boy to the floor kicked him in the stomach.

"Please," Ste shouted, "you don't have to hurt either of them! They're just kids! Please!"

"I'm not a kid!" Paddy screamed, "Get off of Ste!"

"Shut up, Paddy!" Ste shouted, "Just let them go, they can't do anything to hurt ya!"

The boss looked between Ste and Padraig, who was now being held flat to the floor. "Hold out his hand," he instructed the thug holding the boy.

Paddy had stilled a bit from the beating, but he clearly hadn't given up, and he fought the moving of his hand every inch of the way. The thug forced his hand out in front of him until it was prone on the floor in front of him. The boss strolled across Brendan's flat as though he owned it. He stared down at Paddy for a moment, then grunted and said in a voice like steel, "Where is Brady?" as he trod carefully on one of Padraig's fingers.

The boy screamed, and Ste screamed with him, "He's not here, he's been arrested!"

The boss snorted, "Yeah, right, they're always arresting grasses."

He trod on another finger.

Ste screamed at him to stop, as Declan shouted, "It's true! He's been arrested!"

"He's not a grass!" Ste shouted, "He hasn't told anyone anything!"

"He's been arrested for killing my Granddad!" shouted Declan.

The boss hesitated. He looked down at Paddy who was starting to sob but hiding it admirably.

"That true, kid?"

Paddy nodded. "He did it as well," he said.

"Boss," hissed one of the thugs, "they don't nick their own, do they?"

The boss looked between them again. He strode up to Ste who struggled again.

"Put him on his knees," the boss ordered.

Ste was dragged upwards, painfully, by one arm. He decided cooperation would probably be less painful, so put himself on his knees.

"If you're lying to me, poof…" the boss let the threat hang in the air.

"I'm not, I swear," Ste replied.

The boss sneered at him. "Would you suck my cock? Here, in front of the kids? You'd get off on it, wouldn't you? Fucking perve."

Ste didn't speak. He'd done worse than that to protect Padraig.

The boss grabbed Ste's hair and bent his neck backwards. "If I find that was a lie, shit-stabber, I will break both that little brat's legs, I'll sell the blond one's arse to the highest bidding pervert on the internet, and I will bury you. Do you understand me?"

Ste allowed the thug to push his head into a nod as each threat formed vivid images in his mind, "I'm not lying. Go see for yourself, they took him this morning," he managed through gritted teeth.

The boss looked thoughtful for a moment, head on one side.

"Hmm," he said, "Well, here's a taster. Just in case." Ste started struggling again, terrified of any of those three threats starting. The two men holding the boys dragged them into one of the bedrooms, shoving a chair under the door-handle to keep it closed. Then the boss grinned at Ste.

"Try not to panic," he said, and rammed a plastic bag onto Ste's head.

As the bag obstructed his breathing, Ste didn't hear the sounds of them leaving.

**Now review, or Ste gets it!**


	18. Chapter 18

**AN: You can thank Soggy Teabag for the quick update - she was begging and made me promise.**

**Enjoy!**

Ste was so close to panicking it was unreal. Every time he breathed in, the bag closed around his mouth, and his breaths were getting shorter and shorter. His hands were still fastened behind his back, and his wrists were chafing where he'd struggled against the ties.

He craned his neck and pushed against his shoulder until he managed to dislodge the bag from under his chin. It let him breath more easily, but he was no closer to getting it off his head.

It felt like an age that he was knelt there, waiting for help he didn't think was coming, trying not to suffocate on the floor of an apartment on the other side of a sea to his home. He was beginning to feel light headed when he heard a voice shout "Ste!"

The bag was pulled from his head and a concerned Paddy looked down at him. Ste could see the boys fingers, now red, beginning to turn purple and black, and a shaken looking Declan behind him.

Why did he always end up looking so weak in front of these boys? It was pathetic. He was supposed to be a father figure to them, not the damsel in distress their father rescued sometimes.

"Are you alright?" he asked them. He hadn't moved from his knees yet, or got his hands free.

Declan nodded, his face full of concern.

"Are you?" Paddy demanded, searching Ste's face, as though that could give him the clue to all Ste's problems.

"Yeah," replied Ste, tugging again at his hands. They really weren't budging, and he couldn't even see them. "Er, Declan, could you go check the kitchen for some scissors or something?"

Paddy ran to the kitchen draws, digging through them. They were quite empty, except for the bare essentials, and Ste had an image of a thirteen year old trying to cut his bonds with a knife.

"So they were after Dad then," Declan said. It was a statement, not a question.

Ste didn't look at him. What was he supposed to say to that? Then he remembered the walk, the comment, "Why didn't you tell me you got beaten up?" he asked.

Dec shrugged, "You had enough on your plate. And it's not like you could've done anything about it, is it?"

"We could've gone to the police," Ste protested.

"Good job I didn't, after what just happened, don't you think?"

Ste frowned, angrily. This was bad. And this was very much Brendan's fault.

And Declan knew it. Paddy clearly did too, as he ran back at Ste, a pair of scissors in hand, making Ste flinch at the image of him falling with them.

"Thank you," he said to the boy, who started sawing at the ties with the scissors. "You better call your Mum to pick you up," he said sadly, as he felt his arms getting free.

"I'm not leaving you on your own!" said Paddy.

"I can't let you be here if they come back! Plus, your Mum would never forgive me!"

"What if they came back when you were by yourself?" said Declan.

Ste didn't like that idea.

"I'll go to a hotel," he said, "I've got Brendan's credit card from the shopping this morning."

"I'm still not leaving you," insisted Paddy.

"I need to talk to you," said Declan, "about Dad."

"No, you're both going back to your Mum's!" cried Ste.

"Please Ste," said Declan, "I need to know... stuff."

What the hell did that mean? Ste thought.

Paddy scowled at his brother. "I'll just follow you anyway, much safer if I go with you!" He said, and had a point, though Ste couldn't understand why he was making it.

"You don't even like me!" Ste exclaimed.

Paddy just scowled.

"If I just called your Mum, you'd have to go back with her!" said Ste.

"Then send Paddy back, but I need to talk to you, Ste!"

"No, send Declan, he's doesn't even understand what's going on!"

"At least I can keep a secret!" Declan shouted, turning on his little brother, "you're a little blabber mouth!"

"You don't know anything!" Paddy shouted back.

"Stop fighting or neither of you are coming!" shouted Ste.

Both boys fell silent at the threat. That was annoying; Ste had only said it because he was looking for an excuse to still send them home.

"You should be with your Mum!" he moaned.

"I want to be with you!" insisted Paddy, then his cheeks went slightly pink, like what he'd said had embarrassed him. Maybe this was still about being ashamed of his Dad's gay lover, maybe he didn't actually hate Ste.

"We're coming with you, Ste," said Declan, "you can't stop us."

Ste gave up, he was too tired to fight with stubborn teenagers..

"Right, I'm going in five minutes. If you're not ready, I will go without ya, and call your Mum to pick you up, right?"

Both boys ran in the direction of their rooms. Ste phoned a taxi company, then he too, went to his room, repacking his bag. He went to the bathroom, but just shoved everything into a carrier bag. He did the same to the fridge, leaving only stuff he knew they couldn't cook at the hotel. When he got back to the living area, he spotted the red stains on the floor from his food fight with Brendan. They'd been left so long now that they looked like something else. Like a warning about the dangers of this apartment. Brendan's beautiful investment, that Ste doubted he would ever want to look at it again.

Or maybe he'd have to - he'd need a place to stay whenever he visited Brendan in prison.

Before long, both boys were sat on the sofa, alternating between looking concernedly at Ste and giving each other the evil eye. Why did Bradys all have to be so closed off? Why couldn't they just let you know what they were thinking?

They waited in silence for the cab, and when it arrived, they were very careful they weren't being watched as they got in.

* * *

Brendan had been told his brief would not get there that day. It pissed him off so much he fired the bastard in his head. One of the coppers had promised a local guy would be there soon, and within an hour, a smart looking woman in her thirties arrived, dressed to kill and with an expression as hard as stone.

"Sarah Harper-Jones," she said by way of greeting, "please sit down Mr Brady."

Brendan decided it was probably best to do as he was told by this one. He needed her, at least, on side.

"So, as far as I can tell," she said, "all they've got on you is a motive and some DNA on the rope Mr Brady was found hanging from. I can..."

"Is there any other evidence? Of other people? Finger prints and stuff?" He'd interrupted her, but that was important. If they had even the smallest thing that suggested Steven, Brendan was confessing to the whole thing, including the kidnap of Steven and Padraig if it was necessary to keep his boys safe.

"Apparently not, the scene was found by a group of about a dozen local kids, who all dared each other to go inside. They messed around in the dark for ages before one of them spotted your father, and then instead of calling the police, they all brought a parent up to look. They'd made a fire in the living room too, and burnt some of the furniture. The building is full of finger prints and footprints, spilt alcohol, mud, vomit and urine. On top of that, a cat had a litter of kittens in the kitchen, and there was a hole in an upstairs window, and some endangered bird has nested in one of the bedrooms. There's a bunch of bird enthusiasts who started watching that place ages ago, thinking it was empty, and they won't let anyone disturb them."

"Right," said Brendan, trying not to sound relieved - someone who thought they were being set up might actually be annoyed by that.

The lawyer continued; "Though it does seem your father may have had intercourse in the day or so before he died."

Brendan snorted, "Have intercourse is a generous term for what my father did to people."

Harper-Jones looked at him sternly, "Comments like that are not going to help me prove your innocence."

"There's no point in pretending I loved him," said Brendan.

The lawyer frowned, but let it slide, "Any idea whom Mr Brady senior may have ... had intercourse with before he died? That would be a significant suspect that might just get you off the hook."

"Not a clue," lied Brendan through his teeth.

"What about an alibi?"

"I doubt it," replied Brendan, too soon. She spotted that.

"Maybe wait for the date and time of death to be confirmed before you say things like that," she said.

"Yeah," said Brendan.

**AN: Review if you want more soon!**


	19. Chapter 19

**AN: I suspect no one will read this after the most amazing and beautiful Stendan moment ever! But here it is anyway. I have written a few chaps that are waiting to fill the void this weekend, so long as you review! **

It was still mid-afternoon when Ste managed to get the three of them booked into the hotel. He booked a family room, like Brendan had before for them, with a twin adjoining a double. The boys didn't run to bagsy the best bed, or muck around with the remote, or anything you'd expect from teenaged brothers in a hotel room. Instead they both just dropped their bags by a wall and looked expectantly at Ste.

"Well I don't know what we do now," said Ste, "watch TV maybe?"

He switched on the box. There was something about antiques on, and he sat in front of it, not taking it in.

Declan was the first to speak. "Can I talk to you, like, in there or something? So Padraig can't hear?"

"Hey!" objected Paddy, before Ste could answer, "why can't I hear?"

"Cause it's private, blabber mouth! Ste?"

"I'm not a blabbermouth! You're just..."

"What did I say about fighting?!" Ste interrupted.

Both boys looked at the floor and muttered 'Sorry Ste.'

Ste sighed, "We'll just be through there, Paddy."

"But..." Paddy tried to argue.

"But would you want Declan there if you had something important to tell someone?"

Paddy flushed pink again. Ste wondered if he was developing diabetes or something. Could that make you turn red with no reason?

"Come on," he said to Declan, and together they went into the adjoining room, where Ste sat down, exhausted on a chair.

Declan shut the door, then looked hesitant again.

"Go on," said Ste kindly, but when Declan still didn't speak, Ste said, "I haven't got time to play games, Declan."

There was a moments more silence, and Ste sighed and got up. But at that moment Declan said "Dad hurts you."

Ste froze mid move, then sat down again. This was going to be a long and difficult conversation.

"No," he said, "no, he doesn't."

"But he did," Declan protested. "I heard you talking yesterday. You thought he might hit Padraig because of all the times he's hit you."

That was true, but it was not OK that Declan knew it.

"Why are you with him?" the boy asked.

"Because I love him," Ste replied honestly.

"But how can you love someone who does that to you?"

"Because everything else about him is ..." on any other day that sentence would have been finished so easily, but not after they'd just been so terrified by Brendan's associates because of Brendan's actions. "Because he loves me so much. He'd kill to protect me, and you too! He's funny, and clever, and a little bit crazy, and when we're on our own, he's the best boyfriend you could ever have!"

Declan seemed to think about it. "When was the last time he hit you?"

"Er... he got close when he thought I'd... you know..." he couldn't bring himself to repeat Paddy's allegations, "but that was understandable. I'd have done gone mad if I'd thought anyone had hurt Lucas like that. I'd have killed them."

"That's not that long ago," Declan interrupted.

"No, but he hasn't actually hit me since the time you saw."

"That was years ago," said Declan.

"Yeah," said Ste, quietly, "and if he ever did it again he would be out of my life so fast..."

Declan nodded. He obviously wasn't happy with the answer he got. Maybe he'd been hoping Ste would deny it, say it was a mistake. It must be a hard thing to hear about your own Dad.

But Declan wasn't done.

"Did he kill Granddad?"

Ste couldn't quite make eye contact. "You'd have to ask him that, Declan," he almost whispered, "but you know what your Granddad was like, what he'd done, would you blame him if he had?"

"And what about those men?" Declan asked. "They were looking for Dad, weren't they? Was it because of Dad?"

That was the thing that not even Ste had excused Brendan for yet. His inability to answer annoyed him. Whatever he intended to have a good old shout at Brendan about later, it didn't mean that he wanted Brendan's kids to know.

"What do you want me to say, Declan?" he snapped.

"That it's not Dad's fault," Declan replied, quietly.

Ste stood up, and walked to the door adjoining the two rooms. He couldn't excuse it, he couldn't explain it away. He couldn't protect Declan from this truth forever.

As he reached the door he turned slightly.

"I'm sorry, Declan," he said, and left the boy to his thoughts.

Of course, waiting for him in the other room was Padraig.

Waiting wasn't the right word. Ste had the door open in time to see Paddy jumping onto the bed, trying to pretend he hadn't been eavesdropping. It made Ste smile, that there was still room for behaving like a kid in Paddy's life.

"You alright?" Ste asked.

"Yeah," the boy muttered.

"What about your hand?" Ste asked.

"It's fine," said Paddy, though Ste couldn't help but notice how carefully he was avoiding letting it touch anything.

"We can go to A and E if you want."

"No, it's fine."

Ste wasn't going to push it. Paddy wouldn't do anything he didn't want to.

"Are you alright, Ste?"

"Of course I am," he said. He realised he was working hard to avoid the boys eyes when he said that. Trying to look in control and not ready to fall into a crumpled mess on the floor.

Ste sat on the other bed, then wondered if he'd somehow ended up with one of the single beds, and that Declan had got the double. He couldn't quite put a finger on why that wasn't OK.

The conversation with Declan had shaken him. Had he destroyed Brendan's relationship with his son? He wasn't sure. But that wouldn't be important unless he could find a way to get Brendan out of prison.

Of course, he didn't know what the police had on Brendan, so proving it false was going to be difficult. Particularly when it wasn't false. Anything he said could be construed as him lying to protect Brendan, and he wasn't able to take the blame himself – he was a father. He couldn't let Leah and Lucas grow up without a Dad, even for Brendan.

And here was one of the reasons he hadn't wanted the boys to come; the tears that he needed time to shed. He'd been so terrified for them all, just hours ago, genuinely thought they were going to die. And now he had to find a way to get Brendan off the hook for a murder he knew he had committed, or face letting him rot in prison.

He needed to move if he was going to cry. He needed to be strong when the boys could see him.

Paddy sat next to him. Ste was about to stand up and make an excuse to go somewhere else when Paddy put a hand on his shoulder.

He wondered if he would ever understand what was going on in Paddy's head.

If there was any hope for getting Brendan out of prison, they needed to be on the same page, and that included Paddy. Right now, Paddy was clearly feeling more part of the family than usual, so maybe this was a good time to talk about what they would tell the police. Ste was too exhausted, but there was no guarantee Paddy would be this amenable later.

"We need to think about what to say to the police."

Paddy didn't say anything. He kept his hand on Ste's shoulder, and Ste thought he was staring at him, but he was in too dark a place to make eye contact at that moment.

"We need to think of a way to show that he's innocent."

"But he's not," replied Paddy.

"Yeah, but…" Ste thought carefully about the best answer, "but he did it to protect us. You and me."

Paddy grunted.

"We can't let him go to prison Paddy," Ste insisted.

"Why not?" Paddy returned, but he had no real hatred in his voice.

"You don't mean that," said Ste.

"Don't I?"

"No," Ste said assuredly, "you don't want to be without your Dad."

"I'm growing up without my Dad anyway."

"But…"

Paddy interrupted him, annoyance in his voice.

"Why's it always about Dad, for you?"

"What?" Ste exclaimed, finally looking at the boy in surprise, "of course it's about your Dad. He's been arrested."

"But he's evil! He killed Granddad! He hurts you! He let Granddad do that to you!"

"He's not evil, Paddy!"

"He doesn't love you! He doesn't know how to love! He's just a pervey old man!"

Ste was gobsmacked. He had no idea Paddy felt like that about his Dad. Maybe it wasn't Ste he hated. But that was so sad. Brendan had done nothing to warrant that sort of hatred. He wasn't a perfect father, but he loved his kids.

"He loves you and Declan so much, Paddy! He does! He'd do anything for ya!"

Paddy let out an exasperated moan, "You don't get it do ya?"

"Don't get what?" cried Ste.

Paddy's breathing was heavy. He was staring at Ste, eyes wide, mouth open, tears forming under his eye lashes. Ste was alarmed at his expression. It was desperate, painful.

Paddy sucked his own bottom lip into his mouth with worry, then seemed to steel himself. He took Ste's face in both hands and leaned forward.

**Review please!**


	20. Chapter 20

**I took pity on us after such a yawn worthy episode. Hollyoaks are rubbish at aftermath. I need to see how Ste's coping and what he's thinking!**

**But here is what Ste's coping and thinking in my universe! Enjoy!**

Ste had run from the hotel room. He'd barely left instructions with either of the boys, just a shouted 'Stay here' as he ran. He had one thing on his mind. Seeing Brendan.

It was getting into the evening now. The sky was dim, and he'd barely got onto the street before he was almost paralysed by fear. What if they were still following? Would they take him and use him against Brendan? What were they capable of? Would they kill him? Would they go for the boys if he wasn't with them? But as they had shown earlier – they didn't need to wait for Ste to be out of the way to do that.

He didn't even really know where he was going. He didn't know where the police station was, or even if that was where Brendan would be. He couldn't handle what had just happened. If the bastard thugs hadn't been bad enough, Paddy had just taken the record for most disturbing actions of the year. And Ste had to see Brendan.

He remembered the piece of paper the police officer had given him the night before. He'd shoved it into his wallet sometime last night, and forgotten about it. He dug it out. It was more than a phone number; it had the address of the station that woman was from, and her name. Kennedy.

He went back into the hotel, and asked them to order him a taxi. He asked the reception staff not to let anyone up to see the boys unless they had ID that proved they were Eileen Brady or a police officer, then waited for the taxi to arrive. It was uneventful, but his mind was in a huge mess.

He entered the station to see an aged looking waiting room, with paint peeling from the rooms, and a middle aged policeman sat behind a glass window ahead of him. He ran to the window.

"Is Brendan Brady here?"

The officer looked at him in the resigned way that all police officers use to look at people they think are crazy, but didn't answer.

"I need to see Brendan Brady," Ste almost cried, "is he here?"

"This is a police station, sir," said the police officer coldly and quiet patronisingly.

"Yeah, I know that, can I see him?"

"Mr Brady has been arrested for murder," said the policeman, unnecessarily.

"Yes, I know, but I need to see him!"

Other officers were beginning to look. A fair-haired man in plain clothes walked into the waiting area and regarded Ste with curiosity. Ste assumed he was ready to restrain Ste if he started to be a nuisance.

"Sir, Mr Brady is being questioned. I can pass on a message but…"

"I have to see him!" Ste cried, tears beginning in his eyes, "Please!"

"What's your name, sir?" Asked the blond man. Ste turned to him.

"It's Ste."

"Ste? Steven Hay?"

Ste's heart fluttered a bit that this guy knew that. After a day like today, he barely trusted anyone or anything any more. But he nodded.

The blond man observed him a little longer, face unreadable. "Can I see him?" Ste asked. He felt like this was the sort of man you asked things of. He couldn't demand from that face.

The man seemed to consider him a little longer. Then he said "Follow me."

Ste barely hesitated. He had no idea where this guy was leading him, but he didn't really care if it got him closer to seeing Brendan.

He was led to an interview room and asked to sit. Then he realised that he'd brought forward that thing he'd been dreading – he was going to be asked about that day.

The blond man sat opposite him. He steepled his fingers, and looked at him steadily.

"My name is Robert McGrath," he stated, voice still gentle, polite, "and I am investigating the murder of Mr Brady senior. Am I correct that you are Steven Hay, and that your boyfriend is Brendan Brady?"

"Yes," Ste replied. He was going to keep this to the minimum. The fewest words possible. That was not something Ste excelled at.

McGrath seemed to search his face. It made Ste uncomfortable enough to need to break the silence, along with his only resolve so far.

"Can I see Brendan?"

"We'll see what we can do, but I would like to talk to you first, if that's OK?"

It wasn't really a request, and they both knew it, but Ste answered anyway, "If you want."

"Thank you Mr Hay," said McGrath. "Could you tell me about Mr Brady senior?"

"What about him?" asked Ste, very unkeen on the idea.

"Could you describe your relationship with him?"

"Relationship?" Ste hissed.

McGrath looked like he'd understood enough from that word alone.

"He raped you?" he asked.

Ste hesitated. Apart from the sense of shame he felt at admitting that to a stranger, the condoms weighed on his mind, and this might be his only opportunity to explain them away. However admitting to that part of it would place them at Brady's place at the time of the murder. He had to be selective.

"He tried," he said, "more than once."

"And how did you feel about him?"

"What do you think?" snapped Ste, thinking it a stupid question to ask.

"I would imagine that you hated him."

Ste didn't answer. Of course he hated the old bastard.

"But what I don't understand," reasoned McGrath, "is why you would then choose to have a relationship with Mr Brady's son."

"Brendan's nothing like his father," Ste protested.

"He looks quite like him," McGrath prompted.

"Well, a bit, but that ain't Brendan's fault, and they're nothing like each other as people."

"How are they different?" asked McGrath.

"Well, obviously Brendan isn't a rapist for a start."

McGrath looked at him again, considering him. "Have you ever known Brendan to be violent?"

Ste was ready to deny it, but something stopped him. Maybe he realised in time that it would take the officer seconds to prove that Brendan was violent, maybe Ste just wanted to limit the number of lies he told, but maybe it was that steady look McGrath gave him, the one that told him the police officer could read the contents of his soul if he wanted to.

"Yes," he said simply.

"To you?"

"Yes," Ste repeated.

"And yet you say he is not the same as his father?"

This was so unfair, "He's never hurt anyone like Brady did! He used to lose his temper, but it was because he couldn't accept who he was. It was because his father had made him think he was sick and disgusting, and that he had to control everyone, but he's not like that any more! He hasn't been for ages!"

"Do you know how many beaten wives we get in here, Mr Hay, swearing that their husbands have changed?"

"But Brendan ain't like that!"

"Isn't he, Mr Hay?"

"No! He's good, and he's strong, and when he loves you, he'll do anything to look after you!"

"Anything?" prompted McGrath.

And Ste could have hit himself. He'd basically told the man Brendan was guilty. He stumbled in his lies, his attempts to cover it up. No one would have believed them. "No, not that! No! I mean… I just mean… he loves me and I love him, that's all. Like, he's been going to anger management classes and stuff because I asked him to. And… and … when his sister didn't believe me, he told her the truth, but when we thought Paddy didn't want us to be together, we broke up. We only got back together because Paddy…"

An image of Paddy in the hotel room jumped unbidden to his mind. He tried to shove it aside. He needed to convince McGrath that Brendan was a good man, it was more important than whatever was going through Paddy's head.

"He's a good person. He is! He'd never hurt anyone."

'Who didn't deserve it,' he added in his head, but even then he was scared that McGrath could hear it.

There was silence in the room. Ste was on a knife edge awaiting McGrath's reaction.

When it came it was so inadequate. "Thank you Mr Hay. You've been very helpful."

Ste tried not to let his misery show on his face. "Can I see Brendan now?"

McGrath stood. "I'll see what I can do."

Then he left the room. Ste didn't know whether to follow or not, but the question was answered soon enough.

The door opened, and Brendan walked through. Ste was surprised, particularly when no officer followed his lover. Ste couldn't do anything except what his body wanted. He ran to his boyfriend and clung to him.

Brendan looked surprised to see him, too.

"Jesus, I'm hallucinating already!"

Ste laughed, then slapped him on the face. It was a bit harder than he intended.

"What was that for?!" exclaimed Brendan.

"To show you you're not hallucinating. And because you bloody deserved it."

Then he put his head to Brendan's chest, with no intention of ever coming out again if he could avoid it.

"Are the boys alright?" Brendan asked, quietly.

Ste didn't answer. Would it be very unfair to throw what happened in Brendan's face when he couldn't do anything about it?

"I don't think Padraig said anything," Brendan muttered, "they found some DNA."

Ste shook his head gently against Brendan's chest, "No, he said…" before he'd crossed the bloody line. Should he tell Brendan that right now?

"You're shaking," said Brendan.

"I'm scared," said Ste. Obviously he was scared. Brendan already thought he was hallucinating. He'd been there less than twelve hours.

"Hey," said Brendan, putting hands on Ste's shoulders, pushing him far enough away to look at him. "If this happens… if I go down, you need to be prepared, and you need to be strong."

"You can't…"

"Steven, I'll need you to look out for the boys for me."

Ste snorted. If he had his way he'd never set eyes on Paddy again. "They don't need me, they've got Eileen."

"I know, I know, but they need a father figure too,"

"I can't be Paddy's father figure, Brendan."

"Look, he doesn't hate you, he's just angry with me because of what happened."

"No, he's not," said Ste.

Brendan took Ste's hands, "Look, Steven, please, I need… what happened to your hands?"

Ste pulled his hands away fast and pulled the sleeves of his jumper of the grazes on his wrists from the ties. But Brendan wouldn't let him hide them. "What happened?" he demanded.

Ste swallowed, "They found us," he said, then decided if he was in for a penny, he was in for a pound, "they beat up Declan today, then when I picked the boys up from school, they followed us back to the apartment."

"Oh God," gasped Brendan, and pulled Ste back into his chest. Now it was him in danger of never letting go.

"And you know it's your fault!" Ste couldn't help it. It was Brendan's fault.

"Steven…" Brendan sounded so broken.

"It is your fault, it's you and what you do, and you've brought it down on us!"

"I'm sorry, Steven, I'm so sorry!"

"It's not good enough!"

"I know, I know," Brendan said, and Ste realised he was crying. Brendan would be broken by the idea of his loved ones hurt because of him. "Look, if I go down…"

"No!" interrupted Ste.

"If I go down, they will leave you alone! They'll know I haven't done anything to hurt them."

"But…"

"Steven! I love you, I would do anything to stay with you, but the idea of … Steven, I cannot live without know you are safe!" Brendan was begging, pleading, but Ste didn't want to listen. "Promise me you will look after the boys. Please Steven,"

"But…"

"Promise me!"

"I…" Ste knew he was going to cave, "alright, I will, but…"

"And I will find a way to keep you safe, I swear."

They were both in tears. They hadn't allowed themselves to be more than millimetres apart through the whole meeting, even when Ste was shouting. They had touched for almost every moment, and clung as though their lives depended on being that close to each other, and, as Robert McGrath thought as he watched them through the one way mirror on one wall of the interview room, anyone could tell they were as in love as it was possible to be.


	21. Chapter 21

**Thanks to everyone who read and reviewed last chapter! I loved writing some of it.**

**Totally meant to put this up yesterday, sorry about that, but y'all had Safe to keep you going anyway! That's way more exciting than this!**

**Anyway, Chapter 21 is below. Hope you enjoy and please read and review!**

Brendan had always hated himself. It had only ever been the reason for that hatred that had changed. Once it had been because he hadn't been enough to stop his father leaving not just their home, but the country. Later it was for his perverse needs, his disgusting desires, the sinful fantasies about other boys.

Later, after he had found Steven and Steven had changed his life without even meaning to, he hated himself for the pain he caused, how much he had damaged Steven. It hadn't bothered him with the others, but watching someone he loved go through that, and knowing he was to blame… He should have known then that he was rotten all through. All he could do was infect the lives of the people close to him, poison and hurt the people he loved.

This was the right place for people like him. The world would be protected from the misery he caused. These four grey walls were a good thing. The only thing he should worry about was Steven. The idea of Steven waiting for him. His boy, his lover, growing older and putting his life on hold for someone so totally and completely unworthy of his love.

Brendan had always hated himself, but now, as he lay on that cold hard bed in a bare police cell, he knew for certain he deserved it.

* * *

Ste cried all the way back to the hotel. The helplessness was hitting him. He'd failed to get Brendan out. In fact, he'd made it far worse. He'd promised Brendan he would do something he didn't think he could do, and he was still scared shitless of the threats.

'Break the little shit's legs … sell the blond one's arse … bury you."

He couldn't face going back up to the room yet. He did not want to see Paddy. Maybe if he hung out at the bar long enough, Paddy would fall asleep.

He bought a beer, but his hand was shaking too much to hold the bottle. There weren't many people around, but the few that were made him jittery. He had to check the face of everyone in the room a lot of times, and still he couldn't relax. A drunken woman tried to hit on him, but he scared her off simply by being suspicious of her. He gave up at half past ten, praying the boys would be asleep by the time he got there.

As he crept up the stairs he began to get angry with himself – he had behaved very badly, too. He had run away. Paddy could have done anything. God knew how he was feeling now.

Ste took some time outside the door, trying to ready himself for whatever was on the other side. He waited for bravery that never came, then walked in.

Paddy was crashed out on one of the beds in the twin room. Ste had a little panic at the sight, until the boy snorted gently in his sleep. He might have looked peaceful, except for the tear stains on his cheeks Ste noted sadly, then checked the next bed. It was empty. His heart sped up. Had Declan wondered off? Had he gone looking for Ste and been taken? Were they fulfilling their promise as Ste stood there panicking?

Ste had the presence of mind to check the other room before he went mad with worry, where blond hair protruding from the sheets showed him how far he'd overreacted. He breathed in relief.

Both boys were safe. No thanks to Ste, of course, but it was something to be grateful for. But now there was a problem. After Paddy's… actions, Ste couldn't sleep in the same room as him. Which meant either get a new room, get in the double with Declan, or wake the elder boy up. He ruled out the first option – he had abandoned the boys once tonight, he couldn't do it again. As for the second – if Paddy woke up to find Ste sharing with Declan – well, the outcome could be unpredictable, and Ste didn't know whether Declan would have a problem with it or not anyway. So that left the last option.

"Declan," he called quietly, shaking the boy's shoulders gently, "Declan," he tried again.

Declan groaned but didn't open his eyes.

"Dec, I need us to swap beds."

"Ste?" said the boy in a confused voice.

"I can't sleep in there, I need to swap."

Declan blinked a few times and looked at Ste suspiciously. "Did you see him, then?" he asked.

"Er, yeah…" Ste replied, not wanting to get into it now, hoping Declan would just get out of bed and let Ste get some sleep.

"Right," replied Declan, "did he say he did it?"

"Declan!"

"Did he?"

"I'm too tired to have this talk right now."

"Why couldn't ya just sleep in there then?" asked Declan, "scared Padraig'll do ye in while you sleep?"

"No! Don't be stupid!"

"You know, I only slept in here 'cause his crying was keeping me up."

Ste blanched at that.

"He wouldn't tell me why…" the boy prompted.

"Well, I don't know, do I?" Ste snapped.

"Yeah, right," Dec snapped back, and threw his legs off the bed ready to storm off.

"Declan," Ste called after him, "Declan, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to have a go…"

Dec sighed and turned back to him. "I know," he said, "I'm just fed up with no one telling me what's going on."

Ste looked at the floor. There was no way he was telling Declan what was going on with Paddy.

Paddy. The name didn't fit, did it? Paddy. It was a name for a baby, the name for a mate down the pub, a term of endearment. It wasn't right for Ste's relationship with the boy. Maybe that was part of the problem.

"Declan, can you teach me how to say Paddy's proper name?"

Declan scowled, "What, now?"

Ste nodded.

* * *

In another part of town, Robert McGrath sighed in exhaustion as he poured himself a glass of wine. He needed it. He'd had one hell of a day.

Brady was dead. That fact alone had been enough to blow his mind.

And in a cell at McGrath's own nick was Brady's son. Brendan.

It had started when McGrath had seen Kennedy.

She'd been asking for advice about a callout. She was a good copper, Kennedy, always one eye open for anything dodgy, but with a good manner that could diffuse a situation before it got nasty. She'd just got back - some kid had reported his own father for rape. The young man the kid had thought was a victim had denied it heavily, but she hadn't known whether it was OK to leave it there. McGrath had advised her carefully – she was right to have been cautious, but nobody ever got a rape conviction when not even the victim supported it. McGrath knew better than anyone that more could be going on, though.

He'd only asked the names when she'd asked about checking the history. It had brought back memories from nearly twenty years ago.

Brady.

The man that had changed McGrath's life completely. Brady had made McGrath the man he was today. Not in the way Brady had intended. And Brendan was his son. McGrath remembered him too.

He'd said Kennedy shouldn't bother, told her he'd check it out before he went home. He hadn't; instead he'd sat in his office staring at his computer.

He'd been late in the following morning when the news came about Brady. Kennedy had already taken the opportunity to check out the Brady home again.

He had had no inclination to treat the death as suspicious. He could barely even bothered to check out the post mortem; he'd only popped down as an excuse to see Kate. She hadn't been ready, as he knew she wouldn't be, but an excuse to visit again tomorrow was always welcome to both of them. But some over-enthusiastic kid with an eye on promotion had wanted to check the rope. And it had seemed an important opportunity. With Kennedy's report weighing heavily on McGrath's mind, it seemed that Brendan had taken after his father, even killing the old man to take his mantle.

The sound of the front door opening pulled McGrath from his thoughts. It was swiftly followed by the clatter of heels, which were soon replaced by the patter of bare feet.

"I'm never wearing these shoes, ever again," groaned Kate, throwing the offending items into corner of the kitchen, "I don't care how professional I look, or how pretty they are."

McGrath smiled slightly. He loved Kate's temper tantrums. They were so eloquent, even when she would later deny every word of them.

"Wine?" he asked.

Kate pulled off her jacket too. "I knew there was a reason I married you," she said with a smile.

"You married me for my ability to pour wine?" he teased, as he did just that. She grinned at him cheekily.

"Pretty much, yeah. That and the foot-rubs."

He held back the glass playfully, his eyebrows raised, but she just kissed him and he gave up all his resistance.

"You alright?" Kate asked when they'd both pulled away, taking a sip from the wine she'd won.

"Yeah," he replied, "you know me, not much can keep me down."

She put her head to one side, "On a normal night that would be an innuendo by now."

He sighed.

"Are you sure it's him?" she asked.

"Course I am."

"It's been twenty years, Robby…"

"You don't forget someone who does that to you."

"I know, I'm sorry, it's just so… close."

She put the wine down and buried herself in his chest. It was exactly the same as Steven Hay had done to Brendan. He put his arms around her, feeling her warmth against him. She was impossibly perfect; clever, kind, funny, with a smile that made his belly dance even after five years together.

He remembered Brendan's words. Steven made him feel whole. Like Kate made McGrath feel. She'd done something he hadn't believed possible for years.

"What happened with the son?" Kate asked from his chest.

"Well, he murdered Brady. It couldn't be more obvious if we had a video of him doing it while waving his passport."

"So…" she prompted, "you can nail the rapist bastard."

He shook his head. "It's complicated," he said.

"How?" she asked, frowning.

"Brendan isn't the same. You can read it in his face. He didn't kill him in some get rid of the Dad for controlling my life so I can take over his empire in the process thing. He did it to protect him."

"Him?"

"Steven Hay."

"Who told you that?"

Robert snorted, "Neither of them."

"Then how…"

"It was the way they talked about each other. I mean, I read the file, Hay had accused the old man of attempted rape more than once, the second time with witnesses. Brady was on the run. I think he came after Hay, for revenge probably, and Brendan killed him."

Kate looked ready to cry. She knew what this meant to McGrath.

"You should have seen him, Kate, he called Hay 'the thing that makes me whole.' It wasn't planned, it wasn't pushed, it was exactly what he meant, and it was exactly how he felt. Then Hay, I pushed him to admit that Brendan was like his father, that he was a bully. He seemed broken hearted at the idea. Then I watched them together. I had to; I needed to see if he'd threaten him."

"What happened?" Kate asked.

"Brendan loves him more than his own life."

There was a silence in their flat for a moment.

Eventually Kate said, "You know, if I have to give the foot-rub tonight, I ain't gonna be impressed."

McGrath snorted.

Kate lifted her face from his chest, and put a hand to his cheek. "So, what do you want to happen?"

And that was the problem.

"Have you sent the post mortem to anyone yet?" he asked.

**Intrigued yet? Review!**


	22. Chapter 22

**Just a short one. The next one is longer, and I shall do my best to get it up asap, but I have a huge amount of real life crap this week that may get in the way.**

**Thanks for all the reviews and follows etc! I hope you enjoy!**

Paddy knew he didn't really want to wake up. He knew there was a reason for that, too, it just hadn't come to him yet. But a consistent chatter from somewhere nearby, as well as bright light shining on him, would not let him sink back into sleep. He opened his eyes, reluctantly.

Declan was in front of him, sitting up on a bed, watching some news show on telly. Declan was always pretending to be so grown up, watching the news, talking to Mum about stuff Paddy didn't even understand. It really got on Paddy's nerves.

"Morning, sleepy head," greeted Declan, tone patronising.

Paddy glowered at him.

Ste wasn't like that. He made an effort to find out what Paddy was interested in. He'd never expect Paddy to watch the news.

Oh, yeah. The reason Paddy didn't want to get up.

His face burned with shame. He couldn't believe he'd done that. All he'd managed was to make Ste run away. He pulled the covers over his head.

"Ste got back fine, by the way," Declan chirped over at him.

Guilt mingled with his shame. He'd put his embarrassment ahead of his fear for Ste. That fear had been more present last night. He thought he must have cried himself to sleep; he'd had dreams of finding Ste's mutilated body, and that expression he had seen on Ste's face when he'd walked in on Granddad raping him. "Where is he?"

"He's not got up yet. I was thinking of getting some room service or something for breakfast."

Ste was asleep in the next room? Paddy lifted the covers just enough to see the door. What should he do? Should he try to apologise? Should he claim it was a mistake or something? But maybe Ste was just scared of being labelled something bad, maybe he just needed time. Maybe there was still a hope for Paddy to get what he wanted.

"What do you want then?" asked Declan.

Paddy panicked. He was that obvious?

"What?" he cried, "I don't want anything!"

"Alright, no need to shout. I'll go ask Ste what he wants."

Oh, right, he'd been asking about breakfast. Paddy threw the covers off himself, "Er, actually, can I have some cereal? And I'll ask Ste what he wants."

"Er, OK," replied Dec, looking at him like he was crazy. Paddy briefly wondered if he was.

He stumbled into the other room in a hurry, and shut the door. He didn't want Declan in here, getting in the way.

Ste had the covers pulled up high over him, with just his face visible on the pillow. His forehead was creased in a frown, but his eyes closed with sleep. He was probably very scared after what happened yesterday. That would never have happened if he'd been with Paddy. He would never put Ste in danger. Paddy felt the need to reach out and stroke that frown away. Paddy wished he could just replace that look with a smile. Ste always looked so beautiful when he was happy.

Paddy could make Ste happy. If Ste would let him.

He reached out and touched the frown on Ste's face. Ste groaned in his sleep, but didn't wake or protest. Paddy took comfort from that, and stroked Ste's forehead.

Ste sighed, "Brendan," he breathed.

Paddy felt tears begin to burn in his eyes. "No!" he insisted, aloud.

Ste's frown deepened, then his eyes blinked open.

It took Ste a couple of seconds to figure out where he was, then suddenly he was throwing himself back, falling backwards, off the bed on the other side from Paddy, bumping his head on the bedside drawers as he fell.

Paddy jumped after him, "Are you OK?"

Ste was grasping his head in pain, "Bloody hell, Paddy!"

"Does it hurt?" Paddy demanded, clambering over the bed to check Ste's head.

"No, it's fine!" Ste cried, holding a hand up to stop Paddy coming closer. Paddy froze at the sight. Why was he pushing Paddy away? He was only trying to help. And Ste was still holding his head.

"It obviously hurts, though," said Paddy, then had an idea, and ran to the mini fridge. He grabbed a can and brought it towards Ste, who sighed, and thanked him, taking the can from him and holding it against his head.

They stared at each other. Paddy was searching Ste's face desperately, hoping he might find a sign, any sign, that it was OK to kiss him again.

Ste gave no such sign. He seemed to be scrambling for words.

"Look, Paddy…"

"No!" cried Paddy, suddenly desperate to stop Ste from talking.

"We need to…"

"No!" Paddy repeated, "No, no, no, shut up!"

"Paddy, this has to finish now."

Paddy shook his head.

"I'm with your Dad. I love him…"

"He's going to prison!"

"I love him so much…"

"He's doesn't deserve you!"

"He does though; he's done so much to protect me!"

No, Paddy couldn't just accept that, "But you did what you did to protect me!"

"Padraig!"

Paddy gaped. Ste had never called him that before. Only his Ma and Pa or teachers called him that. To Ste he'd always been Paddy and that was how Paddy liked it; it made them feel like mates, like equals.

Ste continued, "Everything I've done to protect you, Padraig, it was all for him, to protect his kids, to protect the people he loved, like he would do for me!"

Ste's words kept coming, kept landing on Paddy like fists. They hurt him so much.

"Like he would protect Leah and Lucas."

Paddy felt his own breathing – great gasps that seemed to do nothing to help him. "He would never do that for you!" he cried.

Ste looked at him almost pityingly. "He would, Padraig. He would, and you know it!"

Sobs were taking over Paddy's breathing. He couldn't hold them down any more. He didn't know that Dad would do anything for Ste. All he'd seen was some perving, and a failure to protect him when he'd really needed it. Then Dad had proved himself a murderer, too.

Paddy shook his head, denying everything Ste had just said with one gesture. He couldn't accept it. He wasn't going to accept it. Ste was in denial, he was confused. Paddy backed away. He couldn't look at him right now. It was just too painful.

"Padraig…"

Paddy turned to run.

"Paddy, you can't leave!"

Paddy froze. Those men, they could be anywhere. God knew what they wanted. Was he desperate enough to get away from Ste to risk seeing them again? He had to really think about it. He forced his breathing back under his control.

"I'm just… Declan's ordering breakfast, I need to …" he could hear the fear in Ste's voice, he still couldn't willingly make him scared, "I'm just going to get changed and stuff."

"Right," said Ste, uncertainly, and Paddy felt the need to reassure him.

"It's all right, I'll just be in there."

Ste nodded, but as Paddy walked out, he asked "Paddy, are you alright?"

Paddy could only nod as he left without turning around.

**Read and review!**


	23. Chapter 23

**Thanks again for all the reviews and for reading.**

**For enjoyment of this chapter, I recommend not remembering dates of previous events too clearly. It's not wrong, I just … may not have checked. It wouldn't arrive until God knows when if I did!**

Brendan had been awake for hours when he was told to get up by a surly sergeant. He wondered what would be the worst that could happen if he didn't; he was already on his own in a miserable room, with no reason to live. But he decided he needed to stay sane, in case Steven was allowed in again.

He was led to the same interview room as the previous day. His lawyer was already there, dressed smartly, paper work spread over the desk. She asked him to sit in a firm voice, then explained that today he would probably be charged. Brendan nodded at the news; it didn't surprise him. His legs were fidgeting; the walls seemed to be getting closer. He took what he hoped would be a calming breath.

The police officer from the day before walked in politely. Brendan tried to imagine how someone as gentle as him had ever handled a rowdy Saturday night. Maybe he'd never had to. Did coppers ever get to start out in plain clothes? But then again, so far Brendan hadn't once been rude to him. He'd found himself being strangely honest, even when he was purposefully lying. Maybe McGrath had that effect on everyone – he inspired a sort of calm and respect.

The officer opened a file in front of him. "I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, Mr Brady," he greeted, "we just have some details to clarify, and I wanted to be certain all of my information was correct."

Brendan nodded as McGrath arranged the sheets of paper across the table before him and switched on a sound recorder. He recited the date and the names of those present, then checked the papers a bit more, before he began.

"Here we are," he said, holding before him what seemed to be an email with a list of figures and names, "would I be right in thinking that you booked a ferry for the twenty-eighth of May this year from Liverpool to Belfast for yourself, Mr Steven Hay and a car?"

"That is correct," replied Brendan, lazily.

"And, even if I search your credit card statements and the passenger records of all airlines and ferry companies with routes from England, Scotland or Wales to the Irish mainland, I will not find a record of you travelling the same route at any time in the days prior to the twenty-eighth of May?"

Brendan frowned. Where was this going now? "No, I hadn't visited in a month or so before then."

"So you can prove that on the twenty-seventh of May, you were, in fact, on the opposite side of the Irish sea."

"Er… there was a club night that night."

McGrath nodded, a small smile playing about his features. If Brendan didn't know better, he'd have named that look as relief. "So there'll be CCTV, and witnesses to back you up on that?"

"Yeah," Brendan replied, thoughtfully, "I had to throw out this guy for harassing some women on the dance-floor."

"Thank you Mr Brady, and I must apologise for the inconvenience. Give me a few minutes to complete the paper work and you will be released without charge."

"What?" demanded Sarah Harper-Jones, mouth agape.

"As you can see, the post mortem, completed late last night, puts the date of death as the twenty-seventh of May. It is unlikely to be more than a day or so out in this time frame, but as I understand it, we will be able to find alibis that place Mr Brady in the village of Hollyoaks or the surrounding area, or travelling for at least a day on each side of that time, with no gaps long enough to travel all the way to the scene of crime."

Brendan could barely believe his ears. Either the post mortem was wrong, or McGrath was covering for him, and Brendan could see no reason for the latter. But that mattered less than Steven. Brendan had promised to protect him, and late last night the most obvious way to do that had been to go to prison.

"And what would happen if I were to confess?" he asked. No one could have mistaken his meaning.

McGrath made steady eye contact with him. "That, Mr Brady, would cause some significant embarrassment, both for myself and the principal medical examiner. In the spirit of openness, I must mention that the medical examiner in this case is also my wife."

Brendan grunted. He didn't think he could cause this man the sort of problems he was implying by the simple word embarrassment. The word meant loss of career for both of them, and possibly criminal prosecution. McGrath was risking a lot to do this, and as bemused as he was by the man's motives, Brendan would have to find another way to protect Steven. He could do that.

His lawyer wasn't so forgiving. She leaned over Brendan and switched off the recording.

"What the hell are you playing at McGrath?" she demanded.

"Ms Harper-Jones, I am uncomfortable continuing an interview that is not being recorded."

"Fuck the tape, McGrath, what the hell is going on?"

"We made a mistake, Ms Harper-Jones," McGrath announced, quietly, calmly, "Mr Brady has a water tight alibi, and the DNA evidence must have come from a previous occasion."

Harper –Jones nearly hissed with anger, "You know as well as I do…"

"That DNA has been wrong in the past, Ms Harper-Jones?" McGrath interrupted, "Of course it has. Though if you continue to doubt your client's innocence, even when it has been proven, I can't be sure he won't use one of your competitors should he choose to ask for compensation."

Harper-Jones looked like she'd been smacked in the face. Brendan didn't blame her. This was inexplicable.

"Once again, Mr Brady" McGrath continued, "thank you for your cooperation. Your things will be returned to you by my colleague on your way out, and as soon as the paperwork is ready, you can be on your way."

He stood up with a soft reassuring smile, glancing at Harper-Jones with some concern in his eyes. If Brendan wasn't careful, she could take them all down. As Brendan watched McGrath leave him alone with his lawyer, he said, "You don't look happy for someone who just won their case."

She turned her angry gaze on him, "Did you bribe them?" she demanded.

"Nope," he replied, "feel free to check all my bank statements on that."

She glared harder, "Sleep with him?"

"I think he just said he was married," Brendan snorted.

She gave him a withering look. "So were you, once upon a time."

Brendan sighed, "Fascinating as your theories may be, Ms Harper-Jones, I wonder what impact it will have on your firm if it got out that you tried to prove your own client guilty after he had been released without charge."

She glared at him a little more, but obviously thought it over. "Fine," she said, eventually. She grabbed her own files and shoved everything away before stomping from the room. Brendan stayed where he was a moment longer. He was in shock.

McGrath had been hard to read, but there was no reason why he should cover for Brendan, was there?

Obviously it had to come with a price. Maybe Brendan was in McGrath's pocket now – his go to dodgy dealer. Maybe McGrath was a junkie, and needed a supplier that couldn't blackmail him. Or maybe he thought Brendan was a hit man. Had Brendan just made the biggest mistake of his life agreeing to this?

He was asked to sign stuff and then had his things returned to him. He thought about ringing Steven, but realised that it would the most fun to just show up.

Fun or deadly. Steven would kill him if he played a trick like that. Or worse, refuse sex. He got his phone out the moment the door to the station closed.

The door opened before he'd got it turned on.

"Ah, Mr Brady. Can I give you a lift anywhere?"

It was McGrath. Brendan only hesitated a moment. It was better to know the catch now, before he talked to Steven, unless he decided the price was too big. Could he voluntarily go back in there?

To protect his boys, he could do anything.

He grunted his agreement, then followed McGrath to his car.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

Ste took a great deep breath. He needed it. His responsibilities were growing. He needed to keep an eye on the boys while avoiding Paddy. He needed to see Brendan to stop himself going mad, but keep from the man who knew him better than anyone all the problems that were turning his mind to mush. He needed to fix Declan's relationship with his father without actually lying to the boy. He needed to figure out where he went from here.

He rubbed his face. Time to brave them both. Maybe separate them to deal with their individual problems. Paddy… Padraig had said something about Declan ordering breakfast. That might break the ice.

He only hesitated a moment more before he opened the door that joined the two rooms. The boys' room looked and smelt as you would expect a room that housed a pair of teenagers. There was the sound of a shower from the en-suite bathroom, and both beds were a pile of pyjamas, covers and pillows.

But no boys were there.

Ste prayed he hadn't failed again. Surely Dec had gone to get breakfast and Paddy was in the shower? That had to be what had happened.

The shower stopped. Ste stared at the door expectantly, praying it would be Paddy. The door opened. Declan appeared with a towel around his waist.

Bloody kids, thought Ste.

**Please review! It will encourage me to get the next chapter out.**


	24. Chapter 24

**One of the hardest chapters I've ever written, and sorry it took so long (long long long week, and hard chapter!) Hope you enjoy and let me know what you think by writing a review.**

McGrath's car seemed to be parked a long way away from the station, and Brendan assumed that was so people didn't see them interacting. Brendan got in in silence, and watched McGrath start the engine.

McGrath didn't drive him home. Instead he drove them to a café on an inconsequential street outside the city centre. Brendan looked at the copper suspiciously.

"I imagine you have questions," McGrath said in reply to the unspoken question in Brendan's look.

"You'd be right on that, DCI Robert McGrath," Brendan replied, pulling out the name with his voice. Names could have power, but that was all Brendan had on McGrath, while McGrath clearly knew Brendan's entire history.

"Let me buy you a coffee," replied McGrath, softly.

Brendan grunted, and got out of the car, strolling confidently into the café and choosing a seat carefully so he could see the door, yet would be closer to said door than McGrath when he chose to sit. McGrath clearly noticed the decision, as he gave Brendan an impressed smile, but he didn't comment on it or complain, happily ordering two coffees and sitting in the chair opposite Brendan.

McGrath steepled his hands, as he had previously in the interview room, and surveyed Brendan. "I'm not sure how best to start this conversation."

Brendan snorted, "We could comment on the weather, or how greasy this café is. Or you could get straight down to what you want, so I can decide if it's worth it."

McGrath raised his eyebrows, "You think I want something?"

Brendan put his head to the side, adopting the cold manner he used with new potential threats.

"Well, I don't suppose you and your wife would fake a post mortem out of the, er… evilness of your heart."

McGrath frowned, "Evilness?" he said, "is that how you see giving you back your freedom?"

"What do you want, McGrath?" Brendan snapped, fed up of not knowing already.

McGrath sat back in his chair, and nodded thanks to the waitress who deposited their coffees on the table. "I know it seems hard to believe, Mr Brady, but I genuinely don't want anything from you."

Brendan snorted in derision. He would find out soon enough, he was sure. "So, why did you do it?"

"Do what?" smirked McGrath.

At another time in his life, that would have been enough for Brendan to lash out. He imagined punching the man in front of him, taking the power back. His fingers itched with the desire to close into a fist, or slam the man's head against the table, but he held himself back. He wasn't sure why. McGrath's smirk was very annoying.

McGrath's smirk morphed slowly back into a gentle smile that suited his face more. "You're boy was right," he said.

"My boy?" Brendan questioned. Had McGrath been talking to Declan or Paddy?

"Did you not know I'd been talking to Steven Hay?"

Brendan blinked and stiffened. He did not like it when people he was already wary of spoke of Steven. It had happened too many times that had ended in too much danger already. "If you even think about threatening Steven, I will make sure your career is the last worry in your head," he growled, leaning forward, body threatening.

McGrath didn't move, neither cowed nor riled by Brendan's tone. "Yes, he said you would do anything for him."

"I wouldn't expect you to understand, but that doesn't mean I can be bullied."

"Oh, but I do understand," returned McGrath, honesty in his voice, "I do."

Brendan's entire body was like a coiled spring, ready to explode, ready to fight, ready to kill if this man should cross the line. McGrath, for his part, put his head to one side again. "Mr Hay swore blind that you had changed, that you're not violent, and that you are nothing like your father."

"Again, that does not mean I will let you have whatever you want," growled Brendan, adding mentally 'get to the point.'

"You will not believe that I don't want anything, will you?" sighed McGrath. "Do you remember 1995?"

It took Brendan by surprise; did that mean he did know McGrath? "A bit."

"You would have been, what 16, 17?"

"Something like that."

"Yes," McGrath reminisced, "I was 18. I remember it perfectly."

"How fascinating for you," replied Brendan, "are you going somewhere with this or…?"

McGrath laughed, sadly, "Yes, actually." He looked sadly at the cup of coffee in his hand, "It was my first proper job. Boring sort of place, found out I was the youngest there by like, ten years or something. I wanted to impress though, I wanted to please everyone. And when _he_ took an interest I thought, yeah, here he is, someone who can help me be who I wanted to be."

"He?" asked Brendan, beginning to get an inkling of where this was going.

"Your father," McGrath confirmed. "He was kind, you know. Told the other guys where to go when they picked on me, taught me a lot about the job. Told me to stick with him. My father had died when I was a kid, and my ma was a waste of space, and he told me about you; how he felt like he'd failed you because it hadn't worked out with your Ma, how you wouldn't forgive him for it, even when he worked so hard to look after you. I think I felt sorry for him, and so jealous of you. You had this wonderful, kind, generous man who loved the ground you walked on, who'd do anything for you, and I wanted that so much! I wanted a Dad."

McGrath sniffed, but put a hand up to silence Brendan's protests, "I know," he said, "I'm getting there. Anyway, he managed to get me a promotion, and then took me for a drink in a pub, called me son, patted my back like he was proud of me, and we drank a lot, and it got late. He made an excuse about not wanting to wake his wife, said he was going to get a hotel, why didn't I come back for a nightcap."

Brendan stared at the table. This tale was familiar, except Brendan still prayed it wasn't going there. McGrath was married to a woman.

"When he kissed me, it seemed rude to push him off. That sounds ridiculous, doesn't it? How could it be rude to stop a man kissing you? I mean, a woman kissing you, if it was you, I suppose. But he'd done so much for me, and he was so kind, and gentle. Then he asked me if he should stop. I felt like I couldn't refuse him. I did want him to care about me, and it just seemed like that was the way to get him to care. And it was 1995, not 1950. There were gay people on telly all the time. I thought it was possible, you know? That I wanted him that way, too.

"Anyway, we met a few more times, in hotels and stuff, and he was kind, but then people got suspicious at work, and whenever he thought I'd let them know, or just done something he didn't like, he'd tell me to meet him somewhere, and… well, you saw the bruises."

Brendan stopped breathing, "I saw…?"

"He brought me to yours a few weeks after we started the affair. I don't know what I was thinking. It just felt like it was never going to end by then. Stuff happened at work, and it was like, I owed him, you know? If it all came out, it would be me that suffered, and I couldn't forget how good and kind he'd been to me. He didn't tell you my name, I remember, but all I could think was how much I hated you. You had the sort of love from him that I wanted. He wouldn't hurt you like he hurt me, because you were his son, his real son, not some waste of space he'd happened to meet at work. I wanted to show him how much better a son I could be, so when he told you I was under his thumb and got you to hit me and fuck me, I had to show him how obedient I could be."

"Jesus Christ," said Brendan, muttered, eyes burning with tears of shame ready to fall. There'd been 'men from work'. Brendan remembered them very little, but he'd never got the smallest inkling any of them were straight.

"He brought me back a couple of weeks later. You took me into your room, shoved a pile of notes under my nose, and told me to fuck off. I jumped to a reason for that straight away. You wanted rid of me because you were jealous, jealous that I had your father's love and attention. It made me happy to think I was that close to him that his own son was jealous. I thought I could take your money, then come back to him, but while I was climbing down onto your garage then down onto your driveway, I realised I didn't have to go back to him. You gave me enough money to put a deposit on a new flat, in another city maybe. I could get a ferry over to England, or even a flight, and he might never find me. It scared me, not the idea of it, but the way the idea was so attractive, how relieved it made me. I could get away from him.

"And I did. I took a flight to London. I never looked back, didn't even tell my Ma where I'd gone, in case he turned up asking. I looked around for jobs, then I joined the police."

Brendan breathed out. That could have been far worse. Brendan was almost the hero of it. Almost. Except for…

"Of course," continued McGrath, "I later realised the money probably wasn't because you were jealous. You saw what it had taken me too long to see."

Brendan nodded. He did remember the skinny guy, barely older than him, looking broken. Brendan had barely been able to make eye contact with him. They'd fucked both staring at the pillow beneath them. No wonder Brendan hadn't recognised him.

"I'm sorry," Brendan managed, "for… I didn't…" he didn't what? Know he was straight? Think it was rape?

"I know," replied McGrath. "Well, I know now. I wasn't sure 'til I talked to Steven."

Even through his cloud of shock and shame, Brendan felt an irrational surge of protective jealousy, "He prefers Ste," he said.

"Ste," McGrath corrected.

Brendan was floundering for words. It was a shocking thing to have thrown at you when you were already exhausted.

"I came back two years ago, when I heard my mother was dying, and I was married to Kate by then, more in love with her than I'd ever believed possible before. I managed to avoid him all that time."

McGrath's tale at an end, Brendan felt himself at a loss.

"He raped Ste?" asked McGrath, though he clearly knew the answers already.

"Yeah," Brendan replied, honestly. Steven would have said that anyway.

"And you killed him to get revenge?"

Brendan didn't answer. He glanced at McGrath's clothing – he was still a cop, he could be recording everything that was said.

"Still don't trust me?" McGrath guessed rightly. Brendan didn't need to answer. "I promise you, the case is closed, there will be a formal inquest, but the result will be a definite suicide. If I tried to change it now, I would lose Kate her job at the least, and probably mine too. And I'm not overly keen to have my sordid story spread over the papers either."

Brendan thought a moment longer. He couldn't help but trust McGrath. He knew the story was true. No one who didn't know his father could have guessed all that.

"Not revenge. Steven would have stopped me. He had done before."

"Then why?"

"To protect them. I'd have done it for Steven alone, except for what Steven wanted, but … _he_… " Brendan could barely call him his father anymore, "he went further. He took my boy."

McGrath's mouth curled in horror, "He raped his Gra…?"

"No," Brendan urged, before McGrath could assume too much. "I don't think he would have… done that. But he would probably have turned him into me. Or maybe even him. Padraig deserves better than that."

McGrath seemed to understand enough. And Brendan realised he didn't have an iota of guilt for the murder of his father. Padraig might be in a bad place right now, but it would have been far worse had the old bastard got his way.

"I've gotta call them," he said, shaking out of the strange contact he found himself in with McGrath, "I need to check they're alright." He coughed. He thought his hands were shaking. Had he just found out he'd raped someone, a straight man who could never have wanted it? Had all those promises to Steven been a lie? Was he actually as bad as his father?

McGrath nodded at him politely, stood, and walked calmly out of the café, leaving Brendan to his confusing and distressing thoughts.

**Thanks for reading, now please review!**


	25. Chapter 25

**Thanks for reading and reviewing! Enjoy!**

Brendan couldn't get through to Steven. His phone was switched off or engaged or something, because he kept getting voicemail. He didn't leave a message – he couldn't leave something like that to voicemail.

He vaguely remembered this part of town. He hadn't been there in a very long time, but he knew more or less where the nearest station was, and therefore where he could get a taxi from. He went straight back to the apartment.

The outside looked unchanged, like he hadn't been away for more than a day, like no one had found or hurt the ones he loved. He pressed in the code as he entered, almost surprised that the same code worked, that he was still allowed in after what McGrath had told him he was capable of. He walked in, wondering if this was the best thing to do. He should probably run, go to the other side of the world, as far from these people he could hurt as possible. But still, his feet climbed the stairs, needing to see them.

His phone jingled in his pocket just as he reached the floor of their apartment. He pulled it out. Steven.

He answered, quickly, panicked, "Steven?"

"Brendan?" came the surprised reply, "How are … I mean, did they give you back your phone, or…"

"I'm out," he replied quickly.

Steven made a gluttoral sound of pure relief, and Brendan could hear him start to cry, "They gave you bail?" he asked.

"No, I'm not being charged."

Steven sobbed harder, and Brendan hoped they were tears of joy or relief. "I'm just outside," he added, for something to say.

He heard Steven's footsteps and breath heavy on the phone, then the sound of a door slamming open, but the door he was looking at didn't move.

"Oh," said Steven.

"Right," said Brendan, "am I on the wrong floor?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you about the hotel."

"Hotel?"

"Yeah, after… after those men, I took the boys to a hotel, so, erm, yeah," Steven mumbled, but Brendan realised there was something wrong.

"I'll text you the address, yeah?" Steven asked, "but there's something… I mean. Sorry."

"Sorry?" asked Brendan, distracted by a sight that freaked him out, though trying not to let it sound in his voice. The door to his newly purchased flat was open. "What are you sorry for?"

"It's Paddy, he's… Padraig ran away."

Brendan growled. That made the possible scene on the other side of the door that bit more terrifying.

"I'm sorry!" Steven repeated.

"It's not your fault," he said. Brendan knew it was his own. He was the poison that ate at his family.

"Brendan, he…" Brendan heard Steven swallow, "Paddy kissed me."

OK, that was new.

"I'm sorry," Steven repeated, "I am, I didn't know, I just… I thought we'd sorted it, and then suddenly… he just wasn't there, and … I don't know where he is Brendan, I'm so sorry."

"OK," replied Brendan, "stay where you are."

"What?" Steven started, sounding annoyed, shocked, both, "what are you…"

Brendan hung up on him. He needed to concentrate in case armed bastards were waiting on the other side of that door, or, even worse, if those armed bastards had his youngest son. The son he was going to murder the second he knew his life wasn't in danger.

He put two fingers on the door, and pushed.

The flat looked the same as it always had, except there were red patches on the floor. Brendan almost choked at the sight, staring down at the nearest one, drying on the floor. He sobbed, let out a terrified sound, and almost dropped down, until he smelt the sweetness. He almost laughed at himself. The strawberries, the fruit he and Steven had been throwing at each other before he was arrested, trodden into the carpet by the feet of his family and the police.

He heard a gasp from above him.

Padraig stood in the doorway to his bedroom, staring at Brendan as though he were a ghost. In his hand was a kitchen knife.

Brendan let out a staggering breath. His phone started to ring in his pocket. It would be Steven. He'd never hung up on him before. He would be worried.

"How are you here?" asked his youngest son.

Brendan snorted, "They let me go, Padraig." Padraig looked at him with horror, so Brendan added, "I can see you've missed me!"

"But… but you did it!" cried Paddy.

Brendan sighed; the little brat had kissed Brendan's boyfriend, and hoped he would go to prison for murder. He stepped towards him. "So, maybe we need a little chat about family loyalty."

"Fuck off!" Paddy shouted, and went to slam his bedroom door. Unfortunately for him, Brendan was too close, and held the door open. "I said fuck off!" Paddy repeated.

"And I'm your father. You do not speak to me like that." Brendan's phone stopped ringing, and he was briefly pleased by the silence.

Padraig actually laughed at him, "You killed your father, and you have a problem with my tone?"

Brendan ignored the question. There was no answer to it. Padraig's phone started ringing. Steven again, probably, probably frantic with worry. Padraig ignored it.

"What are you planning on doing with that?" Brendan asked, pointing at the boy's hand.

Padraig seemed to have forgotten the knife. He shoved it behind his back at Brendan's question, though clearly knowing it was too late by then. His face fidgeted as he searched through possibilities. Brendan wondered if he was going to tell the truth.

"I forgot something, so I came back for it."

Lies then.

"Oh?" he prompted, wondering how far the boy would go.

"And I heard someone coming, so I grabbed the knife, in case it was…"

He trailed off, breathing coming quicker, obviously wondering if he had been believed.

"What did you forget?" Brendan asked.

"Er, toothbrush?"

Brendan almost smiled. Forming lies as a question, childish error. "Really? And you couldn't afford to buy another?"

"Er…"

"Truth this time Padraig."

Paddy glared at him, but seemed to have glued his lips together suddenly.

"You didn't tell Steven where you were going."

Paddy continued glaring at him. "If you know, why did you bother asking?"

"I know that you tried to kiss my boyfriend, yes. I know that you are aware of the damage that could have done to him, after the little tales you told before."

Guilt flashed across the boy's face, and Brendan was surprised how relieved he was at the sight. The boy wasn't lost. He still had a hold on right and wrong.

"You wanna tell me why you did that?"

"That was… that was Granddad…"

"No, not why did you tell those lies, Padraig. Why did you kiss Steven?"

Brendan watched the emotions fly across Paddy's face. Shame, misery, heartbreak, anger, and Brendan wondered if he could every get a normal relationship with Paddy back.

"I'm really hoping here, Padraig, that you're about to tell me you care about him, because if I find you've been trying to hurt him again in a new sick way, I will make you regret you were ever born."

"Of course I care about him!" Padraig cried, and Brendan was relieved that had been enough to get through the barriers, "I care about him more than you!"

Brendan raised an eyebrow. Today was full of surprises. "You think you love him?"

"I do love him! More than you do!"

Brendan sighed, and sat exhausted on the bed. He didn't really know how to react. "I guess that's one way to come out," he said.

"And he loves me, too!"

That made Brendan's head snap back.

"Yeah! Ste loves me! So you can go now you're done murdering and messing him around!"

Brendan took a moment to dissect the truth and the lies from that statement. "He said he loved you?" It was the sort of thing Steven would say. Of course he cared about Declan and Padraig, just like Brendan cared for Leah and Lucas. They were an extension of Steven, you didn't get one without the others.

Paddy went quiet again, though when Brendan looked at him, he attacked again. "No, but he showed me."

"How did he…?"

"He slept with Granddad, didn't he? To protect me! He didn't even have to come after us, he came to protect me."

Brendan nodded. "Yep," he said, "he did all of that to protect you."

"So…" Paddy looked flustered, "so… he does…"

"What did he do when you kissed him?"

Padraig's breathing became heavy. He was clearly confused, thinking deeply. "That's… that's why I came here. He thinks I'm a child, he thinks I can't protect him back so…"

"So you decided to get a knife so you could… what, make him love you back?"

"No!" shouted Padraig, showing revulsion at the thought, which was probably the better response.

"Then what?"

"I had to show him I'm not a kid, that I was as strong as you. I can show him I love him as much as you do!" Padraig's eyes were wide, his body shaking. "I have to show him I can kill for him too!"

**I'd love to hear what you think! x**


	26. Chapter 26

**Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed. I'm blown away by the number! I do adore to hear what you guys think, so keep it up.**

**This is a short one, but I'm off for the weekend, and still wanted to post. And sometimes, it's just where the cliffhangers fall. But, time off this week, so shall do my best to update asap!**

**Enjoy!**

Brendan felt nothing but guilt for how much damage he'd allowed to happen to his own son.

"Right," he said, and firmly took the knife from Padraig's hand, and shoved it deep into a wall. If Padraig tried to take it out he would take long enough for Brendan to drag him away. "Now, I've listened to what you have to say, Padraig, and now you're going to listen to me!"

"Hey!" shouted Paddy, already trying to reach past him for the knife. Brendan ignored him. It was time for the truth.

"Firstly, Steven does care about you, but he is not in love with you. If he were in love with you, that would make him a paedophile. That's because you are a child, Padraig."

"I'm not a…"

"Yes, you are," Brendan replied firmly, ignoring the boys repeated attempts to contradict the facts, "and that's not a bad thing. There is no hurry to grow up. Secondly, Steven once put me in hospital for killing someone to protect him."

Paddy looked shocked. "What?"

"Yes. I realise that's a lot of information. Someone tried to kill Steven, so I beat them up and killed them. I hadn't intended to kill them, but I did. When Steven found out, I thought he would never forgive me. He would be furious if he knew you had put yourself in danger just so you could hurt someone else, and he might never forgive you."

Paddy seemed to take that on board.

"Thirdly," Brendan continued, "How long have you known that you're gay?"

Paddy looked confused, "I'm not… I'm not gay, it's just Ste!"

"Right," said Brendan again, far more relieved. He was figuring it out. This wasn't real. This was a reaction to all the stuff that happened with Brendan's father. He should have seen it coming, except for how no one could ever have seen this coming. "You know," he said, "when I look at Steven, I know I could kill for him. I would stand between him and a gun, I would give my life to protect him, just like I would for you or Declan or even Leah or Lucas. I don't even know when that started to happen. One day I was avoiding him, the next I was beating a man to death because he was threatening to kill him. But before then, and since then, and all the time I've known Steven, I have wanted to pull all his clothes off, get in bed beside him and… well, you know." He flushed. He almost went far too far in that for a conversation with his teenage son.

"That's because you're an old perve," his teenage son replied. Brendan snorted at that.

"A bit," he said, "but you know, that's a part of what 'being in love' is. That desire. That want, that need." He put a hand on Padraig's shoulder, "Steven has it too, you know." He checked Paddy's face for understanding. "I get that you care for Steven. I'm pleased that you care for him, but this isn't real, Padraig."

"You don't know how I feel!" Paddy cried.

"It's just about what happened with your Grandfather. We need to…" What? Talk to someone? See a therapist? That'd go well. He imagined Paddy on a therapist's couch, starting with 'My Dad killed my Granddad' followed by 'my father's boyfriend slept with my granddad' and a general 'my dad's a violent drug dealer, and we were attacked by his associates.' "We need to calm down, then talk about this," Brendan said instead, "As a family. Me and you."

"I don't wanna talk to you!" Paddy shouted.

"What, you wanna kill me instead?"

Paddy screwed up his face. The expression looked so young, he almost forgot the boy had been waving a knife around moments before. "I didn't know you were coming," he mumbled.

Another bit of relief flooded through Brendan, "So, who were you planning on killing to prove your undying love for a man old enough to be your father?" That was pushing it – if Steven was old enough to be Padraig's father, Brendan was old enough to be Steven's.

"Stop talking to me like that! I'm not a baby!" Paddy shouted.

"Talking like what?"

"Talking down at me, like I'm stupid! I'm not stupid!"

"Ain't ye?" Brendan grumbled.

"I hate you!" Padraig shouted.

That hit Brendan hard. Steven had said it to him before, at a time he'd been trying to hide his own feelings, and he hadn't really believed it. Eileen had said it when she'd first heard about the affair and was still shocked and horrified. His Ma had said it once, too, before she sent him off, and that had hurt, but it hurt most coming from his child, unable to believe that sensible part of his mind that said it was just what teenagers said.

For a moment he wasn't sure if he should hit something, or shout, or walk away. He found he couldn't do any of that.

"I love you," he said instead.

Paddy looked blown away by that. "What?" he demanded, as though certain he couldn't possibly have heard that right.

"I love you," Brendan repeated. "I didn't kill my father to protect Steven; I did it to protect you. Because he took you away from me, and I was terrified for you. The idea of not seeing you again sent me near mad, you know."

"But… but you …"

"I'm a shite father. I know that. But it's not because I don't love you. I do. I love you and Declan more than life."

Paddy looked lost again. Confused, blown away. And Brendan knew, as much as he'd known it earlier, he couldn't run away. He may be poison, he may have damaged them all, but he couldn't just remove himself. He had to stay. He was the only one who could make this right. He took a step towards Padraig. That was a mistake. It was too soon. Padraig almost jumped from his touch. But he didn't insult him again. Brendan guessed that was progress.

"I've made mistakes," he said, "but I can fix them, if you'll let me."

They were locked still for a moment, Padraig uncertain, Brendan desperate to try to get through to him. Then Padraig nodded once, slightly. He didn't make eye contact, but it was a way in.

"Thank you," Brendan breathed, meaning every letter.

He sat down on the bed, wondering where on Earth to start. To his surprise, Paddy sat too, though with feet of tension in between them, and Brendan thought through all their issues. Probably his Steven fixation would be a good place to begin. Or straight for Granddad maybe. Or maybe Paddy needed to know why Brendan had left them. Or maybe they should explore this terrifying idea that Paddy needed to kill someone for Steven.

That was a point.

"So, if you didn't know I'd be here, who were you planning to kill?" he asked.

The door to the apartment slammed open, making walls shake with the force, and announcing some new arrivals. Brendan couldn't fail to guess who.

"Oh," said Brendan, no longer needing an answer from Paddy, "them."


	27. Chapter 27

**I've spent a week worrying about this chapter; I didn't really know what I wanted to happen, then realised this had to happen. Here it is. Sorry!**

Padraig hadn't been quite sure whether he wanted to tell his Dad all that, but eventually his anger had just won. It was all so unfair. His stupid patronising father, sticking his nose in when Paddy had thought he was out of the way. Ste had talked to him like he was a kid too. But as Dad had talked, he seemed to be offering Paddy something he'd almost never offered before. He was offering to be a Dad.

To be a proper Dad.

Paddy barely believed it, but his own reaction was even more powerful than that. He wanted his Dad to be a Dad. He wanted it so much. Maybe, just maybe it could work now.

He'd pretty much forgotten about them. Which was odd, because that was the whole reason he'd come back here. These men who had tried to hurt Ste, (and had really hurt Paddy's hand) were going to die by Paddy's hand. Except that his Dad had shoved his knife into the wall. And had there been four of them before? What had his plan been again? Oh, get the leader, right.

He stood up and went to retrieve the knife.

His Dad stopped him with one hand on his shoulder, stepping carefully through the open bedroom door back into the main room of the apartment.

"Gentlemen," Dad greeted.

"Brendan," replied the leader, as the other three cracked their knuckles menacingly. "Let off on a technicality, were we?"

"Nope. Proven innocent actually. Accused of something I didn't do. Not the first time this week."

Paddy decided looking at the floor was best.

"Not what that lad there said," challenged the leader, though Paddy couldn't help but wonder why the thug was still asking. Surely he'd made his mind up by now.

"He was angry with me for getting arrested when we were meant to be doing father son stuff, you know what kids are like," Dad replied, almost playfully, and Paddy wondered if he was scared. Paddy was terrified of them, Ste had been too, so how was Dad behaving like they were discussing their kids on the sidelines of a school football match?

"Interesting," the thug replied, "you see, we had a theory, that maybe you didn't tell anyone anything about the stuff, because you wouldn't have been arrested if you was a grass. But now, you see, that theory's gone a bit to pot, as they say."

Dad's moustache twitched, "It was a good theory, and it still works."

"What, because you were released without charge for a crime you probably did commit? I don't think so Brendan."

"I ain't a grass, Sam."

None of the thugs replied. Instead they stepped closer, menacingly, and Dad stepped further in front of Padraig.

"As if I'd want this, Sam," Dad continued, "look at you, invading my home, hurting my children, you think anything would be worth this? You think I would do anything to risk this?"

The thugs were surrounding them, with just the doorway behind Paddy providing anything like an escape route, and the flimsy door not likely to make much of a barrier. Paddy looked at his Dad. What was the plan? Surely he had a way out? His Dad always had a plan, didn't he?

"We ain't interested in your kids, Brendan, or your boyfriend. It's just you we're after."

Paddy wondered if he should feel relieved by that or not.

"If they stay out of our way," added the leader.

Dad's face turned towards Paddy, slightly, and Paddy guessed what he was going to say before he said it.

"I'm not going!" Paddy cried.

"Padraig…" his father started, but Paddy was not having it.

"No, I'm not leaving you on your own!" And he wouldn't. Dad had only just made all those promises, Paddy was finally getting a Dad, and now he was going to abandon him just like that? "No!" he repeated.

Dad looked back at the men surrounding them, and took a deep steadying breath.

"Sorry," he said, looking at the thugs, and Paddy felt a surge of pride. Dad was going to let him fight by his side. He did respect him, did see him as a grown up.

Then Dad grabbed his arm, shoving him into the bedroom hard, sending him flying and landing on the bed with a thump. He jumped up straight away, ran back at the door and pulled on the handle. It didn't even budge. He heard a scraping noise, and guessed his Dad had pulled a chair under the handle to keep him in.

He heard his Dad's voice through the door. "Do what you want to me, but no one touches my boy."

"Dad!" Paddy shouted through the door, but obviously his Dad was ignoring him. Or maybe he already couldn't answer. The only sounds he heard from that moment were thuds, groans of pain, scuffling. Then a loud bang as something big landed on the floor. "Dad!" he cried again, tears he wanted to hide away falling fast down his face.

He hit the door a few times, but he couldn't get it open, couldn't get to his Dad. There was only one thing left to do. He called Ste.

The phone barely rang for a moment before Ste answered, obviously terrified.

"Paddy! Are you alright? Where are you?"

Paddy couldn't form words, just tears.

"Paddy!" Ste cried, "Please, tell me, where are you? Are you alright? I'm coming to get you!"

"I'm… fine…" sobbed Paddy.

"Paddy, you're crying! Where are ya?"

"I'm… at… the …. Apar… ap… Dad's flat."

"God! What are you doing there?" Ste cried, then more kindly, "I'm on my way!"

Paddy heard Declan's concerned voice in the background, but his words were drowned out by another heavy crash outside his room.

"He's at the apartment," he heard Ste say, presumably to Declan, "I've got to get there, what if those guys turn up?"

"No!" Paddy cried, "they're here and Dad's here."

"What?" Ste demanded.

"They're… Dad's…" he could barely get words out through the sobs, "they're …be…beat… Dad… they're… Dad … locked me…in and… and… now they're… beat…"

Ste was silent for a moment, and Paddy could hear shaky breaths over the sounds of his own sobs, "Right," he said, "Stay where you are. I know it's scary, but your Dad'd feel much worse if he thought they were hurting you too."

"But…"

"Stay where you are, Padraig. I'm coming."

The obvious answer was that Dad would feel even worse if he thought he'd put Ste in danger, but Paddy could barely get breath enough to make even a small sound of protest.

"It's OK, Paddy, it'll all be OK."

Paddy didn't believe that, but it was nice Ste said it anyway.

"I won't be long," said Ste, and Paddy sobbed.

**AN: Review or someone gets it! Mwa ha ha ha haaa!**


	28. Chapter 28

**Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing. Love to hear reviews.**

**Enjoy!**

It took twenty minutes for Ste's taxi to arrive, and another ten minutes to get to the apartment. Half an hour between his phone call from a crying Paddy, and the taxi pulling up outside the apartments. Half an hour of feeling completely useless while Brendan was being beaten up, half an hour of Paddy hiding, locked in a room, half an hour wondering if he was about to find the love of his life dead.

He almost forgot to pay the taxi driver, and the man had to shout at him. He almost threw the cash at him, then ran into the building and up to the lifts. He waited what felt like hours, though it was probably only seconds for the lift to arrive, then again hours for the lift to get to the right floor. He was so scared. What if they hadn't gone? What if they were there and his arrival would just make it all worse?

He hesitated at the door, hand on the handle, breathing deeply trying to calm himself down. He forced his hand to stop shaking, and opened it.

The apartment looked much as he had left it, strawberry stains on the floor, some cream smeared on the sofa and on the walls, but mostly clean, except now there were chairs fallen about the place, the table was overturned, and Brendan was lying on the floor, eyes closed and unmoving.

Ste let out a cry at the sight and ran to his side. "Brendan!" he cried, reaching out to his lover, feeling his face, desperate for a sign of life. "Brendan!" he repeated, searching for a pulse, for the feel of Brendan's breath. He seemed to take an age to think of Getting out his phone and calling for an ambulance, and when he did, he was probably as difficult to understand for the poor woman who answered the call, as Paddy had been when he'd called, asking for help.

When Brendan groaned, Ste almost shrieked with relief.

"Brendan!" he cried again, and kissed him, again and again, all over his face.

"Steven?" Brendan croaked, his eyes creaking open slowly

"It's OK, it's OK, I'm here," Ste sobbed.

"Go! Run! What if they're…"

"I don't care!" Ste interrupted, "I wouldn't care if a thousand people were ready to murder me right this second, I am not leaving your side again."

"Steven…"

"Hush up, you're not getting your way. This is what happens when we do things your way!"

Brendan snorted, though it was obviously painful to do so. "Yeah, like that's gonna change."

"No arguing!" Ste sniffed, taking Brendan's hand. Brendan tried to reach his other hand over to hold comfortingly, but flinched at the movement.

"Alright," Brendan grunted, "your way, then."

"Good," replied Ste, and kissed him again. Brendan put a hand on him to stop the kiss.

"Padraig, where's…"

Ste jumped to his feet, "Paddy?" he called, "Where are you?"

He saw a chair leaning against a door, and put two and two together. He pulled the door open to see a tiny looking Padraig curled up on the bed. He couldn't help but see Lucas, imagine him this miserable, coping with all the nightmares Padraig had. It nearly broke his heart.

He approached the child cautiously, "Paddy?" he said again, "Are you alright?"

Paddy jumped, clearly surprised to hear a voice inside the room, and Ste realised the boy had had his hands over his ears. At that moment he could feel nothing but pity for the boy, after everything he had been through at the hands of his grandfather, after feeling abandoned by his father, being rejected by the person he thought he loved, he'd had to hide in a room and listen to his father being beaten up. "It's OK," Ste said softly, sure it was now turning into a mantra for them all, "it's OK, they've gone, and your Dad's going to be OK, too."

Paddy got up, looked at Ste worriedly, then skirted past him to get out of the room.

He seemed to stare at his father on the floor for a long time as Ste went back to Brendan's side, holding his hand again. Ste wondered if Paddy needed to be told to do something, or if he needed time to figure out what he was doing. "Maybe you could go and look for the ambulance Paddy?" he suggested, "they shouldn't be long."

Paddy shook his head, but the words did knock him out of his trance. He seemed to creep forward, as though hoping that Ste wouldn't notice him, close enough to reach his father's side, opposite Ste, where he knelt and took his father's other hand. Brendan clung to it like a lifeline.

Ste wondered when he should break the news about Declan. Not for a while, probably.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

"But, Pierre…" Ste protested.

"I'm sorry, Ste, I like you, and you are one of the best young chefs I 'ave ever met, but I cannot let this go on 'appening! We 'ave been open less than six months and you 'ave disappeared twice, wizz no warning."

"There were good reasons!" Ste repeated for what was probably the fifth time in this phone call.

"I am sorry, Ste, but I 'ave to let you go. I need someone reliable!"

It had taken Ste months to get anyone to give him a chance, and now he'd lost the best opportunity he'd had. It was going to be hard not to take this out on Brendan.

"I'm sorry, Ste," Pierre repeated. He didn't seem angry, just very disappointed, and Ste supposed he had a right to be that. Ste had let him down, and possibly really embarrassed him, if he had tried to enter him for that competition.

Brendan was watching him from the hospital bed. Ste had thought he was asleep, so had taken the opportunity to finally make his excuses to his boss, let him know when he would be back. He had not expected to be fired.

It was at times like this, when he was really pissed off, that he wished he didn't find so much comfort in Brendan's warm presence. Brendan was the cause of this crap, and he certainly didn't deserve the hug that Ste found himself a part of.

"You'll find something else," Brendan hummed into Ste's hair.

"That's not the point, Brendan!" Ste growled; the animosity in his voice still not present in his body language.

"It's just a job, Steven."

Ste huffed. "No!" he cried, "it's not just a job, Brendan! That was the first person who thought I was any good at anything! He thought I had talent, Brendan!"

"I think you've got talent!" Brendan protested.

"No you don't!" Ste shouted, lifting his head from Brendan's shoulder, "You just think I'm some twink for you to look after and control!"

Brendan looked shocked, "Steven, that's not…"

"Just the victim of all your rubbish. You think I'm just gonna live off you, now, don't ya? Like some 1950s housewife?" Ste pushed himself away from Brendan and stood up.

"Stev…"

"No, Brendan, I don't want to talk to you right now!"

"Where are you going?"

"I dunno," Ste stropped honestly, and he marched from the ward, into a cold cream coloured corridor.

The boys had both gone back with Eileen. She'd given Ste some nasty looks, and Ste supposed he deserved them. He shouldn't have kept the boys with him after Brendan's arrest, and definitely not after those men had arrived. They weren't his sons. He had no right to decide things for them.

Not that keeping the boys with him was a decision he'd had much say in.

And now he'd just shouted at someone in a hospital bed. Now he felt like a dickhead.

He sat on a plastic chair, wondering vaguely what it was doing in the corridor, but deciding he didn't care.

What a bloody mess.

**Looking forward to your reviews! x**


	29. Chapter 29

Brendan was discharged from hospital the next day, arm in a cast, and with a mass of painkillers to help him cope with the pain from that and his broken ribs. Parts of his face were still swollen and bruised, and he was limping.

Their first call was to see the boys. Something was in their way.

"No Brendan," said Eileen from behind the door, chain firmly holding it within inches of closed, "I've put up with your toy-boy and your part-time parenting, but this is too much."

Ste hadn't been able to keep his temper. "You homophobic bitch! You can't stop him seeing his kids!"

Brendan looked at the floor, submissively, and Ste realised he wasn't going to fight this. Maybe he even agreed with Eileen. If anything that spurred Ste on. "It wasn't Brendan's fault! He loves his kids! He'd do anything for 'em!"

"Go back to England, Brendan," Eileen had replied, not even acknowledging Ste's outburst, and shutting them out. Brendan had walked away before Ste had a chance to make a fuss or knock again.

Ste had used some even more choice words about Eileen in the taxi to the airport. Brendan hadn't joined in, and Ste had eventually lapsed into silence. The flight was short, and easier than the ferry without a car. Ste found himself drifting off to sleep, only to wake to find Brendan staring at him, his look deeply thoughtful and considering. It sent ice through Ste's veins.

Because Ste knew what that thinking would be. He'd shouted at the mother of Brendan's children, he'd shouted at Brendan while he was in hospital, blamed him for Ste losing his job, he'd damaged Brendan's relationship with Declan, he'd put Paddy in danger by not returning the boys to their Mum and then even more danger by letting Paddy run away, he'd damaged Brendan's relationship with Paddy by dealing so badly with the kiss, and letting the boy feel like that about him in the first place. If it wasn't for some insane amount of good luck, he could have got Brendan sent to prison for murder. It was no wonder Brendan was wondering if Ste was worth the trouble.

And of course he wasn't. Who was he? Some pathetic, scrawny, thick, waste of space. He'd been stupid to believe Brendan could think otherwise for any length of time. It had only been a matter of time, really, before Brendan got fed up with him, like everyone else did eventually.

Ste closed his eyes. If Brendan thought he was sleeping, he wouldn't do anything just yet. Ste could pretend they were fine for a bit longer. He wouldn't break up on the taxi to Hollyoaks, either, because that would be too awkward, sat feet from each other knowing it was over. When they landed, Ste dashed through customs as though his life depended on getting out of there as fast as possible, and gave the address of the slum to the taxi driver. The second the taxi stopped he jumped out, and didn't even look back at Brendan.

It might be denial, but Ste couldn't handle the end of them too.

Amy and the kids greeted him enthusiastically, Amy only giving him the smallest hard time for going off with no warning. How was he going to tell them he'd lost his job? Let alone that it was probably over with Brendan. He made an excuse, barely holding back the tears, and disappeared into his room.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

"Ste! It's like midday!"

Ste groaned at Amy's familiar, grating voice.

"Come on, Ste, you can't just hide away forever."

"Can," Ste grumbled, and pulled the cover over his head.

"What happened in Belfast, then?" she said, resignedly, walking into his bedroom and sitting on his bed, completely uninvited.

"Don't wanna talk about it."

"Course not," she said, sarcastically, "you just want to hide in here until it all goes away."

"Yep," Ste replied.

Amy sighed dramatically, then picked up his phone. "Hmm, five missed calls. I wonder if you can guess who from."

Five attempts to break up with him, that Ste had no intention to give Brendan.

"O actually, one of them's from Paddy."

Ste grunted. That was the last person he wanted to talk to. Even less than Brendan.

"So," Amy continued, thoughtfully, "I'm just supposed to guess what you need now?"

"No!" Ste groaned, obviously she was supposed to go away and leave him alone.

"You had another argument with Brendan? Or was it with one of the kids this time?"

Ste let out an exasperated sound. "Ames, I'll tell ya when I'm ready."

She smiled at him, "Made you sit up, though," she said, and got up, "OK, but don't you need to call work."

Ste groaned, and pulled the covers over his head again.

"OK, I'll take that as a no then," Amy replied, casually.

…xxx…xxx…xxx…

He dragged himself out of bed a few hours later, knowing he'd been unfair to Amy. He apologised, then offered to get the kids, which she agreed to, but asked the fatal question "Haven't you got work though?"

"Er, not today," was his cowardly response.

He knew he couldn't hide it from her forever, for a start, they'd need to cut down on their spending. They had never been extravagant, but they'd need every penny. He might be out of work for months.

He picked up the kids and took them home, grateful for their short memories. Today was a new day to them, and all Leah wanted to talk about was school and her friend Alfie. Lucas was less interested in talking than in running, which was conveniently distracting for Ste. When he got them back to the flat he made them all tea. He was getting avoidance down to a fine art.

That was the pattern the next day too. Brendan rang a lot. So much so that Ste turned his phone off, though knowing it was futile. He couldn't just carry on pretending, Amy wasn't letting up, and Brendan could find him in a second in person if he wanted.

In the evening, Amy asked him to bath the children while she tidied. She'd been looking at him strangely, as though she had worked it out, but didn't want to say. When he got them out of the bath and was looking for their pyjamas, she wondered over with a concerned and slightly guilty look.

"Steeee…" she said, in the drawn out way she used to ask favours.

"What?" he replied, suspiciously.

"I think we've run out of milk…" she put her head on one side, and looked at him through her eye lashes.

"How? We had like 2 pints earlier."

She waved an empty bottle at him. "I don't know," she said, "we must have used it. Could you, maybe…"

She didn't need to ask. Lucas still wouldn't go to sleep without some warm milk, he'd be a nightmare all night. It wasn't late, the shop would be open, but he couldn't very well tell her to get it. He sighed.

"Alright," he agreed, and she grinned at him.

"Aw, Ste, what would I do without you?"

He rolled her eyes at her, and left the flat, taking a coat, taking all the short cuts. He marched through the alley with his hands in his pockets. He bought the milk with no issues, walking back through the way he came, imagining sadly all the ways Brendan might break up with him.

He noticed the car at the end of the alley when he was about half way down it, though it was dark coloured against the dark sky. The sight of it sent a chill down his body. He'd thought the dealers had got what they wanted when they beat Brendan so badly, but he'd been wrong before.

He turned quickly, ready to walk round the long way, even walk up to Brendan's – he'd rather get dumped than beaten to a pulp – or worse. And he'd be off the hit list if he was dumped, wouldn't he?

A dark figure appeared at the end of the alley. He was trapped, car at one end, stranger at the other. He couldn't see anyone at the car yet. That was probably the way to run.


	30. Chapter 30

Ste barely reached the end of the alley before he felt hands catch his arm. He was ready to fight and scream, to do anything to get that hand off him, but a voice was whispering in his ear.

"Hey, hey, it's OK, it's only me, shhh."

"Brendan!" Ste shouted, furious, "what the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Brendan put his good hand on Ste's face, trying to calm him down. "I needed to see you, I didn't mean to scare you, I'm sorry."

But Ste was still a mass of adrenaline, though it was slowly being replaced by fury, "What the fuck were you think?" he raged angrily, now getting angry that he was relieved he hadn't actually punched the slightly crippled Brendan.

"Well, you wouldn't answer my calls," Brendan grumbled, "so I had to ask Amy to help me get you alone, and…"

"Right," Ste replied, "but, couldn't you have just talked to me in the shop?"

Brendan blinked, "Oh," he replied.

"Yeah," Ste retorted, allowing his breathing and emotions to calm down, "Oh," he mimicked, sarcastically.

"Well," Brendan said, leaning his head to the side, "I was kind of hoping to kidnap ye."

Ste made a face at him, though that was probably pointless as it was too dark to see it.

"It worked before," Brendan continued, "you know…"

Ste did know. He remembered that weird time in their life, one of the other times he'd spent carefully avoiding Brendan, and Brendan had resorted to kidnapping him. They'd ended up shagging on the boot of a car in the woods. That bit had been great. And the chance to talk had made their relationship.

"Come on," Brendan added, "I've got something to show ye."

He nudged Ste gently towards the car, then opened the door for him. Ste hesitated only a moment. He knew he could trust Brendan, however misguided some of his ideas were, and he couldn't go on avoiding it all.

He sat in the passenger seat and watched Brendan walk around the car and get in too. Brendan didn't talk to him, just sort of fidgeted behind the wheel, while Ste wondered if it was legal to drive with an arm in a cast. He didn't drive them far, just into Chester, the opposite end to Pierre's restaurant. It was a nice area, and Brendan parked up outside a café. Ste followed him out and into the building.

It was a funny sort of café, completely empty inside, not even someone behind the counter. Brendan sat at a table, apparently not caring about the minor detail that they couldn't get served, and Ste supposed it was irrelevant, they were here to chat, who cared if they got a coffee?

"So, what did you want to say?" he mumbled to his hands which were crossed on the table. Breaking up in an empty café somehow seemed wrong for them. They should be kissing good bye as one of them flew off in a helicopter from the top of a tall building or something. This seemed so… normal. And Brendan Brady was not normal.

"A few things," Brendan replied. He didn't seem overly keen to elaborate though, so Ste asked;

"Have you heard from the boys?"

"Yeah," Brendan replied, "Padraig phoned, asked if I was coming back."

"What did you say to that?"

"I said I'd try. I don't know if I should… I mean… you know?"

Ste nodded, "Of course you should. He needs ya. They both do."

"I ain't done anything but bring them trouble…"

"That's not true, Brendan," Ste protested. "You love them, and they need to know it."

Brendan sighed sadly. "I wish it could be as simple as that."

He looked so broken, damaged, and Ste wondered if there was anything left of the first Brendan Brady who punched him for cheek. "It can be, if you want it to be," he said.

Brendan looked at him, a glimmer of hope in his eyes. He clearly wanted to believe that.

"So you've been getting all self-sacrificey again?" Ste sighed, "Is that why you want to end it? Because you've been thinking about how you 'hurt' people?"

"End?" Brendan repeated.

"Yeah… you know," Ste prompted, "the reason why you brought me here…?"

"What? I don't wanna end it!" Brendan exclaimed.

"Don't ye?" Ste asked.

"Of course not!" Brendan cried, "You were the one avoiding the calls!"

"Yeah," Ste replied defensively, "because I didn't want you to dump me!"

"Steven…" Brendan sounded disbelieving, like this was the most obvious thing in the world and he couldn't understand why Ste didn't just know it, "I am never gonna end this! You are the only thing I want, if the rest of the world vanished, I only had you left, I wouldn't care. I love you more than everything else in the world put together."

"Oh," said Ste, trying to pretend this didn't mean the world to him, "that's alright then."

Brendan looked at him like he was nuts.

"So, you weren't trying to get away from me?" he asked.

"No," Ste replied, "not like that."

"Oh," Brendan said, and then glanced around the café, "so I bought you a café for no reason."

Ste stared, "You what?"

"Bought you café," Brendan repeated, "I mean, we can turn it into a restaurant if you want. It's your place. I put it in your name, or I will do when I get the paperwork, but…"

"You bought me a café?" Ste repeated, slowly.

"Yeah, well, this café," Brendan replied. "It's not some shitty place, it's got a proper kitchen, and everything. I looked, and it's a nice area. The owners emigrated, and…"

"Why did you buy me a café?" Ste demanded, genuinely amazed.

Brendan looked sheepish, "Because I lost you your job, and I couldn't stand to see you miserable," Brendan replied simply, "and, you know, you're a good cook. Chef. You know."

"But… what were you thinking?"

Brendan smirked, "I think I just said that, Steven."

"But…"

"Don't you like it?" Brendan asked, as though they were talking about a new pair of shoes.

"I'm a sous-chef, Brendan, I don't know how to run a restaurant!" Ste cried.

"Well, you could keep it a café if you want…" Brendan replied.

"No, I mean, I don't know how to run a business!" and it was true. He'd taken ages to read his contract at the restaurant, the idea of doing that all the time scared the shit out of him.

"Oh," said Brendan, "well I was kinda hoping… that maybe…"

He seemed hesitant, completely unlike Brendan. "What?" Ste prompted, maybe not as kindly as he should have.

"I thought you might wanna employ me for that."

"Employ…"

"Not like, full time," Brendan replied, "I've still got the club, and it's your place, I don't want to get in your way, but, you see, I recently lost a significant proportion of my income."

"What?" Ste asked, bemused.

"Some of the things I did for money were not… you know… alright. They were not alright at all, actually, too much of a risk, you know, so I'm giving them up."

Completely lost, Ste asked, "Brendan, what are you talking about?"

Brendan breathed deeply, like he was about to jump from the highest diving board, "I think it's time for me to go straight."

"Straight?" Ste cried.

"No!" Brendan cried back, "not that straight, I don't mean not-gay-straight, I mean, you know, legitimate."

Ste wasn't sure he did know, "You mean you're giving up the drugs?"

"Yeah," Brendan replied. "Yeah," he repeated. "Might have to stop making extravagant purchases, though."

"Are you being serious?" Ste asked, staring into his eyes, needing to be sure.

"About the extravagant purchases? Probably not…"

"No, about…"

"Of course I am Steven. The restaurant's yours, my help is there if you need it, and my heart is yours. I will never do anything to put any of that in danger, because I couldn't live if I did."

Ste stared at him, eyes wide, heart pounding. It wasn't perfect. Brendan shouldn't have bought him a business without asking, he shouldn't even think about giving up on the kids, or his own relationship with them (though Ste was pretty sure they could work on all of that), and he definitely shouldn't resort to kidnap every time they needed a chat. But he was Brendan Brady. And Ste loved every inch of him, crazy and all.

"I think I'll call you the business secretary," Ste announced.

Brendan looked distinctly unimpressed, "Secretary?"

"Yeah. Or administrator. No, secretary sounds better."

"How, Steven," Brendan growled, "does 'secretary' sound better than anything?"

"Well, obviously," Ste said, trying his best to growl like Brendan, "secretaries get to have affairs. In the office. With the boss."

Brendan quirked an eyebrow, "Is that so?" he teased, "well, who said we need an office?"

He stood up, and walked to the door of Ste's new restaurant. No, bistro. No, café. No, that totally didn't matter yet, because Brendan had locked the doors and pulled the blinds down. Even with his arm in plaster he could make Ste's heart race.

"Where do you want me, Mr Hay?" he growled.

**AN: I hope you have enjoyed this series. This is where it'll end for the foreseeable future. I hope you have enjoyed it, and please let me know what you think.**

**If you enjoyed these, please try my new story 'House of Pomegranates', an AU romance and drama, staring the beautiful Ste and Brendan!**

**Thanks for reading! x**


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